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A  DAUGHTER  OF  JEHU 


UWt.  OF  CAUF.  LIBRARY.  f,OS  ANCFTF.9 


"A  daughter  of  Jehu,  for  behold  she  driveth  furiously." 

[PAGE    50] 


A  DAUGHTER 
OF  JEHU 


BY 


LAURA  E.  RICHARDS 

AUTHOR  or  "ABIGAIL  ADAMS  AND  HEK  TIMES,"  "PIPIN,"  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 


THE  DUKE  OF  LEE 


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D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK  LONDON 

1918 


COPYRIGHT,  igi8,  BY 
D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


TO 

HENRIETTE  AND  MOLLY 
WITH  MUCH  LOVE 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

PROLOGUE I 

CHAPTER 

I.  CYRUS 5 

II.  ENTER  KITTY 17 

III.  Ross  HOUSE 29 

IV.  THE  HOME  GUARD 41 

V.  THE  NEIGHBORS 51 

VI.  JOHANNA  Ex  MACHINA 67 

VII.  A  SYMPOSIUM 80 

VIII.  THE  TRIVIAL  ROUND 98 

IX.  THE  SKELETON  IN  CYRUS'  CUPBOARD  .     .113 

X.  THE  PARTY 126 

XI.  ON  THE  RIALTO 150 

XII.    WlLSON   WlMBERLEY   WlBIRD         ....  167 

XIII.  PILOT 186 

XIV.  JOHANNA  REDIVIVA 200 

XV.  LARGELY  LITERARY 212 

XVI.  PSYCHO-CARDIAC  PROCESSES 222 

XVII.  KITTY  SINGS 237 

XVIII.  OLD  LOVE  AND  NEW 252 

XIX.  "THE  TRIVIAL  ROUND" 265 

XX.  THE  PAN-AMERICAN 276 

XXL  THE  TRIBULATIONS  OF  CYRUS     ....  289 

XXII.  THE  DUKE  OF  LEE 303 

XXIII.  HASTE  TO  THE  WEDDING! 316 


21322S5 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

"A  daughter  of  Jehu,  for  she  driveth  furiously" 

Frontispiece 


FACING 
PAGE 


"Oh,  Judge,  I've  come  home,  I've  come  home!" 18 

"Filling  his  pockets  with  gold,  Tom  strolled  happily 
through  the  streets  of  Peking,  looking  in  at  all  the 
bazaars" 172 

— then  the  Duke  of  Lee  took  his  bride  away 323 


A   DAUGHTER   OF  JEHU 


PROLOGUE 

THE  June  sun,  lighting  up  the  yard  of  the  big 
white  house,  lights  up  a  pretty  scene.  To  be- 
gin with,  the  yard  is  pretty  in  itself,  with  its 
stretch  of  emerald  lawn,  its  trim  gravel  sweep,  its 
linden  tree,  in  which  the  bees  are  humming,  its  fra- 
grant masses  of  purple  lilac;  but  though  one  feels  all 
these  things,  one  looks  at  the  people  in  the  yard.  Two 
ladies,  in  light  summer  dresses,  sitting  on  the  steps 
by  the  kitchen  door;  two  children,  riding  a  pony  by 
turns,  shrieking  with  glee.  Both  ladies  are  good  to 
look  at :  one,  she  in  the  pale  green  muslin,  is  so  lovely 
that  it  takes  one's  breath;  like  a  dark  lily,  with  her 
pale  clear  skin,  her  shadowy  hair  and  eyes,  her  bend- 
ing grace  and  languor.  The  other  contrasts  with  her 
prettily  enough :  a  tall,  powerful  young  creature,  vigor 
in  every  line  of  her,  color  flashing  in  her  red-gold 
hair,  in  her  dark  blue  eyes,  in  the  shell-pink  of  her 
cheeks.  She  is  in  white,  as  befits  her;  this  type 
should  wear  white  always.  A  white  dimity  gown, 
made  with  absolute  simplicity,  this  again  contrasting 
with  the  green  muslin,  which  is  flounced  and  ruffled 
and  lace-trimmed,  as  if  the  lily  had  clad  herself  in 

i 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


"And  she  shall  go  to  the  king's  levee, 
And  dance  a  minuet  with  his  majestic; 
And  she  shall  the  very  finest  be 
Of  all  the  great  nobility ! 
Marry  oo,"  etc.* 

"Oh!  Eleanor,  aren't  they  darlings?  Aren't  they 
darlings?  They  simply  are  the  Duke  and  the  Gentle- 
woman! What  if — oh,  Eleanor,  dear!" 

The  little  creatures  dance  sedately,  tiptoeing  here, 
pirouetting  there.  The  young  mothers  clap  their  hands 
in  time  to  the  quaint,  old-world  tune.  The  pony 
stamps  and  whinnies,  rather  vexed  at  being  left  out 
of  the  fun  after  all.  The  June  sun,  shining  through 
the  linden  branches,  thinks,  perhaps,  that  he  has  seen 
nothing  prettier  that  day,  nor  for  many  days. 

Dance,  little  Duke!  Dance,  fairy  Duchess!  Sing 
and  clap  your  hands,  sweet,  dark  lily-lady !  It  is  June, 
in  the  world  and  in  your  hearts;  dance  and  sing  while 
yet  you  may ! 

*  Republished  by  permission  of  The  Page  Company  from 
"The  Wooing  of  Calvin  Parks"  and  "Up  to  Calvin's,"  by 
Laura  E.  Richards.  Copyright,  1908  and  1910,  respectively, 
by  The  Page  Company. 


CHAPTER  I 

CYRUS 

TO  understand  this  story,  you  must  know  some- 
thing of  the  topography  of  Cyrus,  which  is  like 
no  other  town  in  the  State.     (But  every  town 
says  that  of  itself!) 

In  the  middle  is  the  Common;  square,  green,  with 
intersecting  gravel  paths,  each  with  its  marshaled  rows 
of  maples,  which  in  summer  are  just  trees,  but  in 
autumn  turn  to  bowers  and  towers  of  scarlet  and  gold. 
On  one  side  of  the  Common  are  the  Churches,  Con- 
gregational and  Baptist;  on  two  others  the  Houses, 
whereof  anon;  the  fourth  side,  that  fronting  west, 
is  mostly  occupied  by  the  Mallow  House,  where  Mr. 
Marshall  Mallow  reigns  as  king  and  landlord.  Un- 
der the  hill  runs  the  Street  proper,  where  are  the 
"stores" :  Abram  Hanks's,  where  you  may  buy  every- 
thing from  pins  to  poplin,  from  buttons  to  bonnet- 
wire;  the  general  store,  kept  by  Orison  and  Aquila 
Wesley — peace  to  their  memory!  they  are  gone  now, 
but  one  never  forgets  the  large  sign  which  gave  their 
names  in  full,  black  on  white,  spelled  over  in  wonder 
by  generations  of  children;  the  "bookstore" — how 
proud  we  were  of  having  a  bookstore !  Tinkham  had 
none,  nor  Tupham.  There  were  not  many  books  in  it, 

5 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


it  is  true;  a  selection  of  fifty-cent  novels,  chosen  (it 
was  always  supposed)  by  Miss  Almeria  Bygood  for 
their  "tone."  Parents  were  perfectly  safe  in  buying 
a  book  for  their  children  at  Bygood's;  "Bygones," 
Cissy  Sharpe  called  them;  some  of  the  novels,  the 
shopworn  ones,  were  let  out  at  two  cents  a  day.  My 
first  novel,  "John  Halifax,"  came  from  Bygood's;  I 
read  "St.  Elmo,"  too,  and  "Queechy,"  and  learned 
from  the  latter  that  a  heroine  may  weep  on  every  page 
of  two  hundred  and  be  none  the  worse  for  it.  Mr. 
Bygood  was  very  old  even  when  I  first  remember 
him.  He  sat  mostly  in  the  back  shop,  reading  the 
Farmers'  Almanac;  a  venerable  figure  in  a  black  frock 
coat  with  a  high  dickey.  His  blue  eyes  were  full  of 
kindness.  If  a  child  of  his  acquaintance  (and  what 
child  was  not?)  came  in  to  buy  a  paper  or  get  a  library 
book,  he  would  utter  a  gentle  bellow.  Then  Miss 
Almeria  or  Miss  Egeria  would  give  one  a  little  push 
and  say,  "Go  on,  dear!  Father  wants  to  pass  the  time 
of  day  with  you !" 

One  was  not  clear  in  one's  mind  as  to  what  pass- 
ing the  time  of  day  meant,  but  one  went,  and  shook 
hands  with  Mr.  Bygood — rather  dreadful,  this,  be- 
cause his  hand  shook,  and  the  joints  had  chalk  swell- 
ings— and  said  one  was  very  well,  thank  you,  and  so 
was  Father,  and  so  was  Mother.  Then  Mr.  Bygood 
would  say,  "Do  you  mind  your  book,  my  dear?  Al- 
ways mind  your  book !  Remember  Goody  Twoshoes !" 
The  first  part  of  this  address  was  also  puzzling,  for 
to  "mind"  meant,  in  our  vocabulary,  A,  to  obey,  as 
one's  parents  and  elders,  B,  to  dislike,  as  spiders  and 

6 


Cyrus 

large,  smooth  green  caterpillars.  (We  were  told  that 
they  were  Beautiful  Works  of  Nature,  but  we  knew 
better!)  However,  when  we  came  to  Goody  Two- 
shoes,  we  were  on  safe  ground,  and  could  say  heartily 
and  sincerely,  "Please  show  me,  Mr.  Bygood!" 

Then  Mr.  Bygood's  mild  blue  eyes  would  brighten, 
and  he  would  open  a  queer  old  desk  and  take  out  a 
queer  little  old  book — very  old,  for  he  had  had  it 
when  he  was  a  little  boy,  he  said — only  one  could 
hardly  think  printing  was  invented  then! — and  read 
aloud  in  his  high  quavering  voice  the  immortal  tale 
of  the  little  school  mistress. 

"Nothing  could  have  supported  little  Margery  un- 
der the  affliction  she  was  in  for  the  loss  of  her  brother 
but  the  pleasure  she  took  in  her  two  shoes.  She  ran 
to  Mrs.  Smith  as  soon  as  they  were  put  on,  and  strok- 
ing down  her  ragged  apron,  cried  out:  'Two  Shoes, 
Ma'am;  see  Two  Shoes!'  And  so  she  behaved  to  all 
the  people  she  met,  and  by  that  means  obtained  the 
name  of  Little  Goody  Twoshoes." 

This  was  for  little  girls.  Mr.  Bygood  did  not  care 
much  for  boys  as  a  rule;  but  when  Tom  Lee  came  in 
he  always  produced  "Marmaduke  Multiply,"  which 
was  even  older  than  Goody  Twoshoes,  and  read  to 
him  from  that.  Dear  Mr.  Bygood !  how  kind  he  was ! 
He  had  peppermints,  too,  sometimes,  but  I  fear  we 
were  not  always  grateful  for  these:  they  were  apt  to 
be  fuzzy,  from  carrying  in  his  blue  cotton  handker- 
chief; and  besides,  was  not  Cheeseman's  next  door? 
But  we  have  not  come  to  Cheeseman's  yet. 

Miss  Almeria  and  Miss  Egeria  kept  the  shop,  sold 

7 


the  daily  paper  (that  came  from  Tinkham;  Tinkham 
was  larger,  we  had  to  admit  that,  though  otherwise — 
well,  no  matter!)  and  the  Cyrus  Centinel,  our  own 
weekly ;  besides  pens  and  paper  and  the  above-described 
books.  They  were  dear  ladies,  Miss  Almeria  and 
Miss  Egeria :  we  loved  them  both,  and  much  of  the  ro- 
mance of  old-time  Cyrus — long  before  our  own  time, 
Kitty  Ross's  and  mine — clustered  about  them.  Miss 
Almeria  was  tall  and  handsome,  with  jet-black  hair 
and  eyes  of  brilliant  Irish  blue.  She  had  a  fine  figure 
and  great  dignity,  yet  her  laugh  was  as  merry  as 
Kitty's  own.  Apparently,  half  Cyrus  had  wanted  to 
marry  Miss  Almeria:  it  was  matter  of  common  knowl- 
edge that  Mr.  Mallow  had  asked  her  five  times,  and 
Mr.  Jordano  three.  Hannah  Sullivan,  who  did  our 
chores  and  waited  at  our  parties,  was  a  warm  partisan 
of  Mr.  Mallow's,  and  could  never  meet  Miss  Almeria 
without  crying,  "He'll  die  but  he'll  have  ye!"  Mr. 
Mallow  did  not  look  as  if  he  would  die,  but  one  never 
could  tell. 

Miss  Egeria  was  gentle  and  quiet,  a  still  brook 
where  her  sister  was  a  flashing  rapid.  Shi  had  her 
father's  mild  eyes  and  kind,  hesitating  way.  She 
never  seemed  quite  sure  of  anything,  dear  Miss  Egeria, 
but  would  always  appeal  to  her  sister.  "I  wouldn't 
wonder  but  it  rained  to-morrow,  would  you,  Almy?" 
And  if  Miss  Almeria  said  crisply,  "Nonsense,  Gerie! 
there  isn't  a  cloud  in  the  sky,"  Miss  Egeria  would  nod 
her  curls  with  a  gentle,  "I  wouldn't  wonder  if  'twas 
pleasant,  after  all !" 

Miss  Egeria,  if  not  such  a  belle  as  Miss  Almeria, 

8 


Cyrus 

had  yet  had  her  admirers.  We  all  knew  that  the  two 
gentlemen  disrespectfully  known  as  "Twinnies"  had 
loved  Miss  Egeria  and  her  alone,  the  greater  part 
of  their  meek  lives.  They  were  not  twins,  not  even 
brothers;  but  cousins  and  closest  friends,  Mr.  Jason 
and  Mr.  Josiah  Jebus.  They  kept  the  Crewel  Shop: 
it  had  been  opened  under  that  name  during  the  last 
craze  for  crewel  work  in  the  seventies,  and  had  never 
changed.  As  Mr.  Jason  said,  if  they  changed  with 
every  turn  of  fashion  in  fancy  work,  where  would 
they  be? 

"Why  not  call  it  the  Fancy  Shop  once  for  all,  and 
stick  to  that?"  Kitty  Ross  asked  him  once;  but  Mr. 
Jason  shook  his  head.  "That  would  sound  frivolous, 
Katharine!"  he  said.  "Josiah  and  I  are  not  frivo- 
lous!" 

They  were  not.  They  carried  on  their  funny  little 
business  with  a  gravity  and  decorum  that  was  all  their 
own.  Mr.  Jason,  as  a  rule,  did  the  selling,  matched 
the  worsteds  and  yarns,  advised  the  selection  of  pat- 
terns. Mr.  Josiah  embroidered.  He  had  a  club  foot, 
and  walked  very  lame,  but  his  fingers  were  wonder- 
fully nimble ;  we  loved  to  watch  him,  as  seated  at  his 
embroidery  frame,  half  hidden  by  the  green  rep  cur- 
tain which  divided  the  front  shop  from  the  back  (the 
latter  was  their  living  room),  he  sent  his  needle  fly- 
ing back  and  forth  with  what  seemed  to  us  miraculous 
speed. 

The  Crewel  Shop  was  a  tiny  building,  tucked  in 
between  Adams's  and  the  Mallow  House.  A  minute 
kitchen  behind  the  back-shop-sitting-room,  a  bedroom 

9 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


above : — that  was  all,  but  it  was  enough  for  the  little 
gentlemen.  They  never  wanted  to  lose  sight  of  each 
other ;  they  had  only  one  opinion  between  them  on  any 
subject.  In  this  they  differed  from  the  Miss  Bygoods. 
They  did  not  appeal  to  each  other;  they  simply  said, 
"We  think  it  will  rain  to-morrow."  This  was  carried 
so  far  that  one  or  the  other  might  be  heard,  in  "grippy" 
weather,  to  say,  "We  have  a  cold !"  and  Cissy  Sharpe 
insisted — but  one  did  not  always  believe  Cissy  im- 
plicitly— that  she  had  seen  Mr.  Jason  on  several  oc- 
casions try  to  walk  lame  like  Mr.  Josiah. 

This  being  so,  it  was  no  more  than  natural  that 
both  gentlemen  should  have  loved  the  same  lady.  Our 
theory  (a  knot  of  school  girls  gossiping  over  their 
noonday  buns  and  pickled  limes,  we  had  a  theory  to 
fit  everything  in  town)  was  that  they  had  never  told 
their  love,  for  fear  of  interfering  with  each  other.  If 
this  was  true,  it  might  have  been  hard  on  Miss  Egeria, 
supposing  her  to  have  cared  for  either;  but  we  some- 
how doubted  if  she  ever  had.  They  were  so  very 
mild,  and  their  wigs  (exactly  alike,  and  dressed  every 
month  by  Mr.  Beard  the  barber — so  appropriately 
named,  we  thought!)  were  such  a  peculiar  shade  of 
pinkish  brown,  and  so  palpably  made  of  jute! 

My  mother,  who  detested  gossip,  put  an  end  one 
fine  day  to  all  our  romancing  about  still-remaining  pos- 
sibilities for  "Miss  Bygoods"  by  telling  us  the  simple 
truth ;  that  the  dear  ladies  had  both  lost  their  lovers  in 
the  Civil  War,  and  had  never  thought  of  matrimony 
since.  She  added  that  Kitty  and  I  were  a  pair  of  silly 
girls,  and  would  much  better  study  our  algebra  lesson 

10 


Cyrus 

than  gossip  about  people  who  presumably  knew  their 
own  affairs ;  Kitty  and  I  went  off  with  hanging  heads, 
but  more  imbued  than  ever  with  sentimental  melan- 
choly. 

We  couldn't  help  it,  we  agreed :  Cyrus  certainly  was 
a  romantic  place.  There  were  so  many  interesting  peo- 
ple ;  so  many  curious  names !  Mr.  Very  Jordano !  How 
could  a  man  be  named  Very  Jordano  and  not  be  ro- 
mantic? His  mother  was  a  Miss  Very,  but  his  father 
was — must  be — of  Italian  descent.  Look  at  Mr.  Jor- 
dano's  hair,  and  eyes,  and  the  way  he  wore  that  pic- 
turesque cloak,  such  as  no  one  else  in  Cyrus  would 
ever  think  of  wearing.  Mr.  Jordano  had  no  objection 
to  our  looking  at  his  hair  and  eyes  and  cloak :  his  Ital- 
ian aspect  was  his  joy  and  pride,  and  he  cultivated  it 
sedulously.  "A  poor  scribbler!"  he  was  wont  to  say 
of  himself.  "A  poor  country  editor,  sir;  but  in  my 
veins  flows  the  blood  of — h'm!  ha!  nimporto!"  and 
then  he  would  glance  over  his  shoulder  mysteriously, 
as  if  to  see  whether  he  was  being  followed,  and  curl 
his  long  mustache,  and  hum  "Santa  Lucia"  as  fiercely 
as  that  plaintive  air  can  be  hummed.  He  edited  the 
Centinel,  as  I  have  said,  and  signed  his  own  articles 
"Italic."  When,  as  sometimes  happened,  his  spelling 
of  Ccntinel  was  criticized,  he  would  say:  "It  is  the 
spelling  used  by  Sir  Walter  Scott,  sir!  what  is  good 
enough  for  the  Wizard  of  the  North  is  good  enough 
for  me — tee!  tee!" 

I  have  left  Cheeseman's  till  the  last,  but  it  was  first 
in  our  hearts  and  our 'thoughts.  Mr.  Ivory  Cheese- 
man's candy  shop  and  kitchen  was  the  delight  and 

ii 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


the  despair  of  every  child  in  Cyrus.  We  knew  to  a 
nicety  the  day  each  kind  of  candy  was  made.  Mon- 
day was  peppermint  day,  Tuesday  was  devoted  to 
caramels,  Wednesday  to  sticks,  Thursday  to  drops,  and 
so  on.  We  timed  our  visits  accordingly,  and  I  fear 
we  were  shameless  little  beggars,  for  though  we 
clutched  our  legitimate  "nickel"  tight,  prepared  to  sur- 
render it  when  we  had  made  our  choice,  we  knew 
very  well  that  if  we  were  "pretty-behaved,"  Uncle 
Ivory  would  probably  ask  us  to  taste  those  lemon  drops 
or  to  see  if  that  batch  of  cream  ribbon  wasn't  a  little 
mite  better  than  common.  Dear  Uncle  Ivory !  how  we 
loved  him,  spite  of  the  sharp  tongue  that  was  the  ter- 
ror of  "slack"  or  unmannerly  children ! 

But  this  will  never  do.  I  am  wandering  all  about 
Cyrus,  shaking  hands  with  everybody — I  wish  I  could ! 
— as  if  I  still  lived  there,  as  if  this  were  my  own  story; 
whereas,  it  is  the  story  of  Kitty  Ross,  and  it  is  high 
time  that  I  brought  her  in  properly,  instead  of  let- 
ting her  whisk  round  an  occasional  corner,  as  she  has 
hitherto  been  doing. 

The  story  begins  with  Kitty's  return  to  Cyrus  after 
her  mother's  death.  Her  father  had  died  two  years 
before.  Mrs.  Ross — the  gay,  lovely,  flower-like  little 
lady,  who  had  never  felt  a  rough  wind  while  he  lived — 
could  not  stay  long  after  him.  She  and  Kitty  went 
abroad,  and  wandered  about  here  and  there.  Then 
came  the  panic,  and  most  of  the  comfortable  property 
Dr.  Ross  had  left  was  swept  away,  I  am  not  clear  just 
how.  Very  little  was  left,  and  much  of  that  little  was 
invested  in  western  railroads  that  paid  no  dividends.  I 

12 


Cyrus 

will  hurry  over  this  part.  Mrs.  Ross  drooped  like  a 
broken  flower;  drooped  and  died,  and  Kitty  was  left 
alone. 

If  Tom  Lee  had  been  at  home  that  year,  this  story 
would  never  have  been  written ;  but  Tom  was  in  China, 
building  railways.  So  Kitty  came  back  alone  to  Cyrus, 
where  she  was  born  and  bred.  Cyrus  people  are  the 
kindest  in  the  world,  I  believe.  They  may  be  fond  of 
gossip  (I  don't  find  that  a  thousand  miles  away  it  is 
less  popular)  and  they  may  be  a  trifle  stiff-necked,  like 
their  Puritan  ancestors  before  them,  but  kind  they  cer- 
tainly are.  Ever  since  the  news  of  Mrs.  Ross's  death 
came,  Cyrus  had  been  asking,  what  would  Kitty  do? 
The  money  was  gone,  practically  gone,  Judge  Peters 
said.  There  was  enough  for  her  clothes  and  fal-lals,  but 
little  more,  sir,  little  more.  Something  must  be 
thought  of.  Some — thing — must — be — thought — of. 
The  judge  looked  and  spoke  cheerfully,  because  he 
had  already  thought  of  something.  He  was  Dr.  Ross's 
executor,  and  who  had  a  better  right,  he  would  like  to 
know? 

The  Miss  Bygoods,  talking  together  in  low  tones, 
while  Father  nodded  over  the  fire,  voiced  the  same  sen- 
timent. The  dear  child!  they  said.  Of  course  she 
could  not  stay  in  that  great  house  alone,  even  with 
Sarepta.  Sarepta  was  good  and  faithful,  of  course, 
and  an  excellent  cook,  as  everyone  knew ;  but  she  was 
no  companion  for  Kitty,  even  if  her  temper  were  not — 
well,  uncertain. 

"I  think  the  little  blue  room,  Sister!"  said  Miss 
Almeria.  "There  are  bluebirds  on  the  paper,  you  know, 

13 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


and  Kitty  always  made  me  think  of  a  bluebird.  Dear 
me !  how  pleasant  to  think  of  having  a  young  creature 
in  the  house  again!" 

"And  oh,  sister!"  Miss  Egeria  beamed  softly  over 
her  tatting.  "We  can  give  her  a  little  Society !  Nothing 
elaborate,  of  course,  only  ice-cream  and  sponge-drops, 
but — wandering  about  the  Continent  as  she  has  been — 
not  that  I  mean  a  word  in  criticism  of  dear,  sainted 
Mrs.  Ross;  no,  indeed!  but  to  meet  Cyrus  people,  and 
have  a  little  social  life,  will  mean  a  great  deal  to  dear 
Kitty.  I  mean  when  she  puts  on  half  mourning,  of 
course." 

Miss  Almeria  pondered. 

"I  wish  there  were  more  young  people!"  she  said. 
"There  is  no  better  society  than  that  of  Cyrus,  but — 
but  we  must  acknowledge  that  most  of  our  agreeable 
people  are — a — mature,  and  Kitty  is  so  young !" 

"There  is  Wilson  Wibird ;"  Miss  Egeria  spoke  tim- 
idly. "Wilson  is  young." 

Miss  Almeria  looked  grave. 

"Wilson  is  young!"  she  acknowledged  with  a  digni- 
fied bend  of  her  handsome  head.  "I  fear  there  is 
little  more  to  be  said  in  his  favor."  She  paused.  Wil- 
son Wibird  had  been  in  Egeria's  Sunday  School  class, 
and  she  could  not  bear  to  think  ill  of  him.  Why  give 
pain?  thought  Miss  Almeria. 

"I  cannot  think  that  Kitty  would  find  him  interest- 
ing!" she  concluded. 

Interesting,  indeed!  Miss  Almeria  had  never  heard 
Wilson  Wibird  shrieking  from  the  gutter,  "Ma!  Ma! 
Kitty  Ross  knocked  me  down  and  trompled  on  me!" 

14 


Cyrus 

"And  there  are  the  Chanters!"  Miss  Egeria  spoke 
more  confidently,  as  Miss  Almeria's  face  lightened. 

"Yes,  there  are  the  Chanters.  They  will  be  pleasant 
playmates  for  Kitty :  they  are  young,  and  gay :  I  almost 
think — I  fear — Zephine  and  Rodney  may  sometimes 
be  a  little  too  gay,  sister,  but  perhaps  not.  Yes,  the 
Chanters  will  certainly  be  a  resource ;  still,  my  dear,  we 
must  acknowledge  that  there  have  been  great  changes 
in  Cyrus.  It  is  not  what  it  was  in  our  youth." 

And  Miss  Egeria  did  acknowledge  it  meekly. 

Mr.  Marshall  Mallow,  at  the  Mallow  House,  made  a 
careful  examination  of  his  rooms  about  this  time; 
studying  wall-papers,  carpets  and  decorations,  with 
meticulous  care.  One  room,  he  decided,  a  pleasant 
corner  room,  facing  south  and  west,  could  do  with  a 
new  paper,  and  one  or  two  nice  "edgin's."  "I  don't 
care  for  these  chromios,"  he  said  to  Billy.  (Billy  was 
his  clerk:  if  he  had  another  name,  I  never  knew  it.) 
"They're  too  glarish.  Give  me  a  good  edgin'  or  en- 
gravement !" 

Mr.  Mallow's  English  was  all  his  own,  but  nobody 
minded,  because  he  never  said  anything  unkind  in  it. 
He  overflowed  with  warmth,  like  the  rising  sun,  which, 
indeed,  he  somewhat  resembled,  with  his  round,  rosy 
face  and  polished  head.  He  inherited  the  Mallow  House 
from  his  father,  who  in  turn  had  taken  it  from  his 
father,  who  built  it.  It  was  a  family  affair.  Since 
old  Mrs.  Mallow  died,  Mr.  Marshall  (known  as 
"Marsh"  among  his  intimates)  had  been  his  own 
housekeeper,  major-domo  and  butler.  "I  don't  want 

15 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


no  woman  gormineerin'  over  me!"  he  often  said;  but 
this  was  when  youth  was  past,  and  with  it  all  hope  of 
Miss  Almeria;  or  so  we  girls  maintained. 

The  boarders  at  the  Mallow  House — but  here  I  go 
wandering  again.    The  boarders  must  wait. 


CHAPTER  II 

ENTER   KITTY 

JUDGE  PETERS,  tall  and  spare,  in  glossy  frock 
coat  and  tall  hat,  met  Kitty  at  the  station.     Miss 
Almeria  Bygood  was  there,  too,  and  Mr.  Mal- 
low.    It  was  quite  a  getherin',  the  latter  said:  quite 
a  getherin'.     Gen'lly,  he  despised  to  see  folks  conju- 
gating round  the  deepo,  but  this  was  an  occasion,  you 
see. 

Mr.  Very  Jordano,  notebook  in  hand,  keeping  a 
sharp  lookout  for  the  train,  agreed  with  him. 

"I  expect  Miss  Kitty  will  be  a  distang  young 
lady!"  he  said.  "Traveled  the  world  around;  the 
world  around.  A  select  gathering  is  surely  appro- 
priate-tate-tate!" 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  Cyrus  was  a  place  of 
individual  dialects.  Most  of  us  spoke  ordinary  English 
or  good,  strong,  racy  Yankee;  it  was  only  these  two 
gentlemen  who  were  peculiar  in  their  speech.  Mr. 
Jordano  had  formerly  had  an  impediment;  was,  in 
fact,  a  confirmed  stutterer,  till  he  came  to  man's  es- 
tate. The  story  went  that  one  day,  wishing  to  go  to 
Tupham,  he  found  himself  wholly  unable  to  ask  for  a 
ticket.  He  stood  before  the  friendly  station  master, 
gasping,  scarlet,  but  uttering  no  sound. 

17 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


"Come,  Very!"  said  Mr.  Tosh.  "Put  a  name  to  it! 
Where  do  you  want  to  go?  Train's  due!" 

"T-T-T-"  stammered  Mr.  Very,  "T-T-T-  Damn  it! 
I'll  ivalk  to  Tupham!" 

After  this  experience,  he  set  himself,  carefully  and 
methodically,  to  remedy  the  defect:  labored,  suffered, 
finally  conquered.  I  know  not  what  his  method  was : 
I  only  know  that  he  was  apt  to  repeat  the  final  syllable 
of  a  word,  sometimes  with  singular  effect.  When  he 
said,  "Business  is  looking  up-pup-pup,"  or  "I  fear 
I  must  be  going  now-wow-wow !"  strangers  were  sur- 
prised. To  us,  it  was  as  much  a  part  of  Mr.  Jordano 
as  his  foreign  idioms;  foreign  idiocies,  Mrs.  Sharpe 
called  them.  These  were  simply  an  assertion  of  his 
Italian  descent.  Nothing  vexed  him  so  much  as  to  be 
addressed  as  "Jordan,"  a  thing  that  happened  now  and 
then.  "Names  ending  in  O,"  he  would  say,  "are  in- 
variably of  Latin  origin,  Latin  origin-gin-gin!" 

He  set  great  store  by  the  letter  "O,"  and  seemed  to 
think  that  it  could  not  fail  to  impart  a  Latin  tinge 
to  whatever  word  it  adorned.  His  favorite  exclama- 
tion, "Nimporto!"  (pronounced  as  spelled)  was  an 
example  of  his  method,  if  it  could  be  called  a  method. 
He  knew  little  of  French  vowel  sounds,  nothing  of 
accents;  i  was  English  i  to  him,  long  or  short  as  might 
be,  except  when  it  was  mysteriously  a.  Distingue  was 
"distang,"  and  so  on.  It  is  unlikely  that  he  was  ac- 
quainted with  Mrs.  Plornish,  as  he  thought  Dickens 
unrefined,  and  never  read  him;  but  his  epithets  some- 
times rivaled  those  of  that  immortal  lady. 

Here  is  the  train,  and  here  is — a  fine  lady  ?  a  flounced 

18 


"Oh,  Judge,  I've  come  home !     I've  come  home !" 


Enter  Kitty 

and  furbelowed  Frenchwoman,  as  Mrs.  Sharpe  pre- 
dicted? No!  just  Kitty!  our  own  Kitty,  rather  pale, 
rather  larger-eyed  than  usual  (which  was  unreason- 
able!) sweet  and  simple  in  her  dark  gray  dress. 

"Very  distang!"  murmured  Mr.  Jordano,  making 
a  series  of  little  bows  over  his  note-book.  "Oh,  very 
distang,  indeed!" 

"Kitty!  my  dear  child!"  Miss  Almeria  had  her  in 
her  arms,  and  the  fair  head  drooped  a  moment  on  that 
kind  black  satin  shoulder ;  but  only  for  a  moment ;  then 
Kitty  was  herself  again. 

"Dear  Miss  Almeria !  how  perfectly  darling  of  you ! 
Oh,  Judge !  Oh,  Mr.  Mallow,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you ! 
And  oh!  if  it  isn't  Mr.  Jordano!  How  d'ye  do,  Mr. 
Jordano?  Did  you  come  to  meet  me,  too?  I  do  think 
you  are  the  kindest  people  in  the  world!  Oh,  Judge, 
I've  come  home !  I've  come  home !" 

Kitty's  voice  quavered,  and  the  tears  came  into  her 
gray  eyes,  but  she  winked  them  away  resolutely.  Judge 
Peters  blew  his  nose  with  a  long,  sonorous  note.  He 
had  had  a  little  speech  of  welcome  all  ready  in  the  back 
of  his  head;  nothing  formal,  just  distinctive  enough  to 
mark  the  occasion;  but  all  he  found  to  say,  and  that 
gruffly,  without  an  atom  of  his  beautiful  Court  man- 
ner, was :  "How  are  you,  Kitty?  How  are  you?  Glad 
to  see  you !" 

Mr.  Jordano  was  hardly  more  fortunate,  even 
though  he  had  written  down  his  remarks  the  night  be- 
fore, and  committed  them  to  memory  while  shaving 
that  morning.  But  he  began  bravely: 

"Miss  Kitty,  I  bid  you  welcome  to  your  native 

19 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


heath !  This  day — a — every  inhabitant  of  Cyrus — a — 
will  be  marked  with  a  white  letter  and  a  red  stone — 
I — I  would  say  a  red  letter  and  a  white  stone-tone-tone. 
The  Graces — a — the  Muses "  Mr.  Jordano  hesi- 
tated and  was  lost.  "Nimporto!"  he  said  hastily.  "I 
am  glad  to  see  you,  Miss  Kitty;  you  are  looking  well, 
my  dear  young  lady,  considering  every  thing-ting-ting !" 

Mr.  Jordano  retired  in  confusion,  flourishing  his 
note-book  nervously.  Mr.  Mallow's  turn  had  come. 
Taking  both  Kitty's  hands,  he  shook  them  up  and  down 
solemnly,  as  if  working  a  double  pump. 

"How  are  you,  Kitty?"  he  said  huskily.  "Pretty 
well,  thank  ye!  My  bronical  tubes  don't  conjingle, 
that's  all.  Well!  well!  well!  how  about  it?  Lots  of 
water  in  the  'Tlantic  Ocean,  eh?  Treat  you  pretty 
well,  did  they  ?  Find  anything  better  than  the  Mallow 
House  in  them  foreign  caravans?  Bet  you  didn't!" 

Here  the  Chanters  swept  round  the  corner,  rosy, 
breathless,  shouting,  "Late,  as  usual!"  and  the  recep- 
tion was  over.  There  could  be  no  ceremony  where 
the  Chanters  were.  The  three  girls  enveloped  Kitty  in 
exclamatory  embraces:  the  three  boys  (well-grown 
youths,  but  always  boys!)  hovered  about,  as  nearly 
embarrassed  as  Chanters  could  be,  cracking  their  fin- 
ger-joints and  getting  in  a  word  when  they  could.  It 
was  something  like  this: 

Trebles:  "You  dear,  darling,  delicious  Thing!  It  is 
too  simply  heavenly  to  get  you  back !  Oh,  Kitty,  it  is 
so  rapturous!" 

Basses:  "Great,  Kitty!  awf'lly  glad!" 

20 


Enter  Kitty 

Trebles :  "My  dear,  I  can't  believe  it  is  you,  though 
you  do  look  so  deliciously  natural,  you  darling!" 

Basses:  "Corking,  Kitty!  looking  awf'lly  well!" 

Trebles:  "Isn't  she?  Only  a  scrap  shadowy,  but  it 
makes  her  eyes  all  the  bigger.  Kitty!  They  are  a  mile 
round  at  least !  I  never  saw — Oh,  you  precious  Thing, 
I  must  kiss  you  again !  Won't  you  give  the  boys  just 
one— " 

Basses :  "Oh !  I  say !"    Exeunt,  blushing  peony  red. 

It  had  been  decided  that  Nelly  Chanter  should  have 
tea  that  first  night  with  Kitty.  Miss  Egeria  Bygood 
had  held  an  anxious  consultation  with  Sarepta,  the 
Ruler  of  Ross  House.  Miss  Bygoods  had  hoped  to 
have  Kitty  at  their  house  this  first  evening;  Miss 
Egeria  advanced  the  proposition  rather  tremulously. 
What  did  Sarepta  think  ?  It  would  be  such  a  pleasure 
to  Father:  Kitty  had  always  been  his  favorite:  there 
happened  to  be  a  sweetbread  in  the  house — 

Sarepta  fixed  her  with  an  inscrutable  pale  blue  eye. 

"No'm!  thankin'  you  all  the  same,  but  it  can't  be 
done.  She's  best  off  in  her  own  home  at  the  first  of 
it.  I've  got  everything  provided.  But  it's  real  kind 
of  you !"  she  added,  relenting.  "I'll  tell  her  you  asked 
her,  and  she'll  be  just  as  pleased." 

"Oh !"  Miss  Egeria  had  been  making  little  plaintive 
sounds,  like  a  deprecating  bird.  "But  do  you  think, 
Sarepta — won't  it  be  sad  for  the  dear  child,  all  alone — 
not  that  you  are  not  excellent  company,  Sarepta!" 

"Ask  Nelly  Chanter!"  Sarepta  evidently  had  it  all 
arranged  in  her  mind.  "I  was  goin'  to  send  word  to 

21 


her,  but  if  you  would !  She  has  the  most  sense  of  any 
of  'em.  And  she's  young !" 

Sarepta  did  not  mean  to  be  cruel,  but  the  thing  must 
be  understood.  It  was  understood :  Miss  Egeria  bowed 
her  head  meekly. 

John  Tucker  had  waited  till  the  first  rush  of  Chan- 
ters was  over.  He  now  advanced  quietly,  and  touch- 
ing his  hat  with  a  twinkle  of  welcome,  took  possession 
of  Kitty's  bag. 

"Glad  to  see  you,  Miss  Kitty !"  he  said.  "The  checks, 
Miss  ?  I'll  see  to  your  trunks.  Pilot's  round  the  cor- 
ner." 

"Oh,  John!"  Kitty's  face  broke  into  a  wholly  new 
combination  of  smiles.  "Shake  hands,  John!  Aren't 
you  glad  to  see  me?  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you! 
How's  Mary?  And  the  children?  Sarepta  is  well,  of 
course!  She  wouldn't  dare  to  be  anything  else,  with 
me  coming  home :  not  that  she  ever  was !" 

Now,  how  exactly  like  John  Tucker!  All  in  a 
moment,  with  no  word,  with  hardly  a  look,  he  had  got 
Kitty  away  from  the  eager  group  of  friends,  each  of 
whom  was  waiting  for  a  little  private  word  with  her; 
had  tucked  her  into  the  sleigh,  given  the  checks  to  the 
expressman  (who  had  rather  hoped  he  might  get  a 
word  and  a  glance,  too),  chirruped  to  Pilot,  and 
whisked  round  the  corner  out  of  sight.  Exactly  like 
John  Tucker! 

"How  mean  of  John!"  cried  Zephine  Chanter. 
"Why,  I  hadn't  time  to  see  her  dress,  or  anything!" 

"John  Tucker's  movements  are  quick-wick-wick!" 
said  Mr.  Jordano.  "We  may  as  well  be  jogging,  neigh- 

22 


Enter  Kitty 

bors.  Miss  Almeria,  may  I  accommodate  my  steps  to 
yours  as  far  as  the  corner?" 

The  little  group  dispersed,  Miss  Bygood  and  Mr. 
Jordano  departing  first,  a  stately  pair. 

"Aren't  they  too  delicious?"  demanded  Zephine 
Chanter,  looking  after  them.  "Don't  you  think  they 
might  hit  it  off  after  all,  Lina?  Hannah  Sullivan 
says  he'll  die  but  he'll  have  her!" 

"Hannah  Sullivan  has  said  that  of  Mr.  Mallow 
for  twenty-five  years,  mother  says!"  Lina,  the  eldest 
and  quietest  of  the  Chanters,  spoke  reprovingly,  "and 
— and  I  wouldn't,  Zephine,  if  I  were  you!" 

"I  know  you  wouldn't,  Sobersides  dear ;  but  I  would, 
you  see  t  Where's  Nelly  ?  Nell,  mind  you  notice  every 
stitch  she  has  on.  Disgusting  of  Sarepta  to  ask  you 
instead  of  me — but  perfectly  right,  you  darling  thing! 
Come  on,  girls!  The  boys  have  gone.  Weren't  they 
too  craven!  when,  of  course,  they  were  dying  to!" 

Speeding  along  the  level,  jogging  up  the  hill,  John 
Tucker  kept  his  eyes  fixed  steadily  between  Pilot's 
sharp-pricked  ears,  and  kept  up  a  steady  stream  of 
cheerful  talk  which  enabled  Kitty  to  cry  quietly  into 
her  muff  and  no  harm  done.  Yes,  they  was  all  well, 
he  guessed.  Mary  had  had  one  of  them  spells  last 
summer,  but  she  was  rugged  now,  and  the  children  sim- 
ilar. Sarepty  was  in  her  usual  health,  fur  as  he  knew : 
he  never  knew  anything  to  ail  Sarepty.  He  didn't 
know  but  'twas  because  she  was  so  poor  of  flesh : 
nothin'  for  sickness  to  take  holt  of,  or  so  it  appeared. 
Bones  wasn't  liable  to  ail  any,  he  guessed.  What 
say? 

23 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


"John  Tucker,  how  you  talk!"  Kitty  was  actually 
laughing,  a  quavering  little  laugh,  but  still — "As  if 
bones  didn't  ache  when  people  have  rheumatism !  Dear 
me!  how  is  old  Mrs.  Tosh,  John?" 

"I  couldn't  say,  Miss  Kitty;  that  is,  not  precisely. 
She  ain't  livin',  Mis'  Tosh  ain't — at  the  present  time !" 
John  added  gravely,  with  an  air  of  guarding  his  words 
carefully.  "She  passed  away — yes'm!  'Twas  about 
the  time  we  lost  old  Victory." 

"Is  Victory  dead?  Oh,  John!  the  dear  old  horse! 
Why,  she  was  the  first  horse  I  ever  drove.  Don't  you 
remember  Father  giving  me  the  reins,  and  dear  Mother 
being  so  frightened?" 

"I  do,  Miss!"  John  Tucker's  face,  which  had  been 
carefully  wooden  till  now,  broke  into  curiously  carved 
wrinkles  of  laughter.  "I'll  remember  that,  I  guess, 
long  as  I  remember  anything.  Little  tyke  you  was — 
excuse  me,  Miss  Kitty !" 

"I  certainly  was !  go  on,  John !" 

"Six  years  old,  warn't  you?  Or  not  more'n  seven 
anyhow.  'You  may  drive  round  to  the  stable,  Daugh- 
terkin!'  says  Doctor,  and  puts  the  reins  in  your  little 
mites  of  hands.  'Yes,  Doctor,'  says  you.  Til  drive 
round!'  and  you  took  them  reins,  and  before  any  one 
could  so  much  as  wink,  you  was  out  of  the  yard,  cut- 
tin'  down  the  ro'd  full  chisel — gee  whiminy!  I  can 
see  you  now.  Your  Ma  hollered  right  out,  and  I  don't 
wonder,  f  raygile  as  she  was.  I  know  it  took  my  breath 
away.  Why,  I  never  see  anything  go  so  quick.  It 
appeared  like  you  and  Victory  had  got  it  fixed  up  be- 
tween you,  so  to  speak.  Doctor  himself  was  took 

24 


Enter  Kitty 

aback,  I  could  see  that,  the  way  he  winked  his  eyes, 
but  he  wouldn't  let  on. 

"  'Don't  be  frightened,  Mary/  he  says.  'The  little 
imp  has  a  good  grip,  and  Victory  is  as  kind  as  kind- 
ness !'  he  says.  All  the  same,  I  noticed  he  was  lookin' 
pretty  sharp  up  the  ro'd!  And  when  he  see  the  old 
mare's  nose  come  round  the  corner,  gee  whiminy!  he 
slaps  his  leg  and  hollers  out,  'A  daughter  of  Jehu !'  he 
says,  quotin'  Scriptur',  I  believe,  the  way  he  did.  'A 
daughter  of  Jehu,  for  behold  she  driveth  furiously !' 

Kitty  was  laughing  outright  now. 

"Dear  Papa!    I  was  a  little  imp,  wasn't  I,  John?" 

"Yes,  Miss,  you  sure  was.  But  yet — "  John  Tucker, 
cocking  his  head  argumentatively,  ventured  for  the 
first  time  to  look  at  his  companion,  saw  her  face  firm 
and  cheerful,  and  went  on  with  confidence — "but  yet 
you  knew  what  you  was  about  well  enough.  You'd 
ben  handlin'  the  ribbons  a  year  or  more  goin'  to  and 
from  the  stable,  'longside  o'  me  or  your  Pa:  you  was 
tough  as  hickory,  and  you  was  knowledgeable:  there 
warn't  nothing  to  be  scared  of.  'A  daughter  of  Jehu!' 
says  Doctor,  'for  behold  she  driveth  furiously.  Here 
she  comes,  Mary!  she's  all  right!'  He  laughed  right 
out,  and  then  he  pulls  his  face  straight,  and  looks 
mighty  solemn,  and  you  come  lickety-split  along  the 
ro'd  and  turned  in  the  gate  as  neat  as  a  whistle,  and 
pulls  up  front  the  door.  I  says  to  myself,  'Wai!'  I 
says;  'that  young  one,'  I  says,  'is  all  right!'  And  so 
it  has  proved." 

"Nice  John!  Thank  you,  John!  And  we've  been 

25 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


friends  erer  since,  haven't  we?  But  Papa  scolded  me, 
didn't  he?" 

"He  did,  Miss.  'You  little  imp,'  he  says,  'I  told 
you  to  drive  round  to  the  stable !'  'Yes,  Papa  dear,'  you 
says :  I  can  hear  you  now.  'So  I  did,  dear  Papa ;  round 
the  square!'  He  had  to  laugh  then,  would  he  or 
wouldn't  he!" 

"Victory  could  have  made  just  as  good  a  turn  with- 
out me!"  said  honest  Kitty.  "She  was  as  wise  as 
three  ordinary  horses;  and  she  knew  the  way  round 
that  turn  as  well  as  the  way  into  her  own  stall.  She 
was  pretty  old  even  then,  John,  wasn't  she?" 

"Victory,"  said  John  Tucker,  slowly,  "was  thirty- 
five  years  old  when  she  died  this  spring.  I  set  out 
to  write  you,  but  I  couldn't  seem  to.  Kind  o'  broke  me 
up,  losin'  her.  She  was  the  first  hoss  ever  I  come  to 
know  and  care  for.  Lemme  see !  I  come  to  work  for 
Doctor  thirty  years  ago  this  winter.  Victory  was  five 
years  old,  and  she  was  a  pictur!  prettiest  hoss  I  ever 
see,  bar  none.  Well!  now  you  might  be — ?" 

"Twenty !"  said  Kitty. 

"That's  right!  And  Vict'ry  was  twenty  that  time 
you  driv  her  round  the  square.  She  kep'  smart  right 
along  up  to  the  last  week,  old  mare  did:  I  didn't 
drive  her  any  last  summer,  only  once  in  a  while,  so's 
her  feelin's  wouldn't  be  hurt,  seein'  the  other  hosses 
go  out.  She'd  whinny  out  just  as  askin'!  'Why  ain't 
I  goin'  out?'  she'd  say,  plain  as  any  person  need  to 
speak.  Then  I'd  put  her  in  the  light  sulky  and  drive 
her  up  and  down  the  ro'd  a  piece,  and  she'd  antic 

26 


Enter  Kitty 

round  and  toss  up  her  head  as  if  she  was  the  Presi- 
dent's wife  goin'  to  meetin'." 

"I  hope  she  didn't  suffer,  John?" 

"No'm!  no!  she  died  like  a  Christian,  the  old  mare 
did.  One  night  she  wouldn't  take  her  sugar;  I  allers 
gave  her  the  sugar,  like  you  told  me,  Miss  Kitty — " 

"Dear,  good  John !   Thank  you,  John !" 

"So  I  suspicioned  what  was  comin',  seein'  her  age 
and  all.  I  told  S'repty,  and  she  brung  out  an  extry 
good  mash,  but  'twas  no  use.  Old  mare  laid  down, 
and  we  set  there  with  her.  She  looked  at  me  real 
lovin',  and  put  her  nose  in  my  hand,  and  I  rubbed  her, 
and  S'repty  rubbed  her ;  and  'long  about  ten  o'clock  she 
just  stretched  out  and  passed  away,  same  as  if  she  was 
a  person." 

John  Tucker  cleared  his  throat  and  was  silent  for  a 
few  minutes;  then  he  addressed  Pilot,  his  present  joy 
and  pride,  with  some  asperity : 

"Git  ap,  you !  No  reason  for  your  goin'  to  sleep  that 
I  know  of.  Miss  Kitty — "  he  glanced  sidelong  at  his 
companion — "the  ro'd's  first  rate  here  on  the  level.  I 
didn't  know  but  you  might  like  to  drive  a  spell — " 

"Oh,  John !"  Kitty  looked  down  ruefully  at  the  gray 
suede  gloves  which  had  seemed  just  the  right  thing 
for  traveling.  Pilot  had  a  pretty  solid  mouth.  "If  I 
only  had  some  decent  gloves !"  she  sighed. 

With  a  sheepish  look,  John  Tucker  fumbled  in  an 
outside  pocket  and  pulled  out  a  stout  pair  of  leatu 
gloves,  fur-lined. 

"S'repty  wouldn't  give  'em  to  me!"  he  chuckled; 
"but  I  remembered  the  drawer  where  you  kep'  'em. 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


You'll  need  'em.     I  kep'  him  in  yes' day  a-puppose." 

With  a  flashing,  "Oh,  John!  You  are  a  darling!" 
Kitty  almost  snatched  the  gloves  from  him.  Another 
moment,  and  they  were  speeding  along  the  level,  a 
swallow-flight  which  brought  the  blood  to  the  girl's 
pale  cheeks  and  the  light  to  her  eyes. 

"I  tell  ye!"  chuckled  John  Tucker.  "Gee  whiminy! 
Go  it,  Miss  Kitty,  he's  fresh :  I  kep'  him  in  yes' day 
a-puppose." 

Kitty  chirruped;  Pilot  tossed  his  handsome  head 
and  sped  on  the  faster. 

"If  I  am  a  daughter  of  Jehu,"  said  Kitty,  "I  might 
as  well  live  up  to  my  name,  John  Tucker !" 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  when  Kitty  Ross  came  home 
to  her  father's  house,  it  was  with  a  rush  and  a  swirl 
that  brought  Sarepta  flying  from  the  kitchen  in  a 
panic,  dish-cloth  in  one  hand,  stove-lifter  in  the  other. 

"My  land  of  the  living !"  cried  Sarepta.  "That  John 
Tucker!" 


CHAPTER  III 

ROSS    HOUSE 

THE  Ross  house  stood — stands,  thank  heaven! — 
on  the  north  side  of  the  Common,  between  Judge 
Peters' s  and  Madam  Flynt's,  its  front  windows 
facing  due  south.  The  main  body  of  the  house  is  of 
brick,  the  two  wings  and  the  portico  with  its  Doric 
columns,  of  wood;  all  gleaming  white,  with  blinds 
of  exactly  the  right  shade  of  green.  The  front  fence 
(Cyrus  has  not  done  away  with  its  fences;  it  would 
scorn  to  do  so.  "When  I  wish  to  move  into  my  neigh- 
bor's yard,"  says  Madam  Flynt,  "I  shall  ask  his  per- 
mission first."  And  Miss  Almeria  Bygood  says,  "I 
prefer  to  live  on  the  street,  not  in  it")  is  of 
iron,  with  chains  and  tassels  elaborately  looped;  the 
posts  of  white  brick,  surmounted  by  wooden  balls 
large  enough  for  a  child  to  sit  on  with  some  measure 
of  comfort.  The  gate,  a  beautiful  affair  of  hand- 
wrought  iron  (a  testimonial  to  Dr.  Ross  from  a  grate- 
ful blacksmith)  was  made,  one  would  think,  to  be 
swung  on.  Near  the  bottom  were  four  grapevine  cir- 
cles, into  which  two  pairs  of  small  feet  fitted  perfectly; 
while  the  smooth  bar  across  the  top  was  manifestly 
intended  for  the  resting  of  dimpled  chins  and  the 
grasping  of  chubby  hands.  Then,  its  squeak !  At  the 

29 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


friendly  sound,  Kitty  Ross  glanced  down,  and  all  her 
childhood  came  flooding  back. 

"Ah,  Tommy!"  she  sighed.  "Ah,  Duke!  We  are 
too  big  now,  even  if  you  were  anywhere." 

Then  the  door  opened,  and  there  stood  Sarepta  Dar- 
win, just  as  she  had  stood  at  similar  home-comings  all 
Kitty's  lifetime. 

"Come  in  this  minute,  child!"  she  said.  "You  had 
the  life  nigh  scared  out  of  me.  You,  John  Tucker, 
you'd  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  at  your  time 
of  life!" 

"That's  just  it,  S'repty,"  chuckled  John.  "I've  out- 
grown the  sensation!" 

"Don't  scold,  Sarepta  dear !"  said  Kitty.  "I've  come 
home!" 

Sarepta  snorted,  and  turned  her  head  away.  No 
one  had  ever  seen  a  tear  in  that  wintry  blue  eye,  and  no 
one  ever  should.  The  idea! 

"You're  froze,  I  expect,"  she  said  severely,  "speedin' 
like  that  in  this  cold.  Come  in  to  the  fire!  Nelly 
Chanter's  comin'  to  supper  with  you  and  spend  the 
night,  but  I  thought  you'd  want  to  get  your  things  off 
first." 

Home!  After  all  the  wandering,  all  the  longing: 
home  at  last!  Kitty  had  enjoyed  much  of  the  time 
abroad.  Endless  wonder,  endless  beauty ;  she  rejoiced 
to  have  seen  it ;  but  the  place  where  she  was  born,  the 
countryside  where  she  belonged,  meant  more  to  her 
than  all  the  glories  of  Europe  and  Asia.  So  long  as 
her  mother  was  with  her,  so  long  as  anything  strange 
or  fair  could  lift  the  languid  head  or  bring  a  gleam 

30 


Ross  House 

of  light  to  the  sad  eyes,  on  they  must  go,  wherever  the 
brightest  way  seemed  to  point :  but  when  it  was  over, 
and  the  weary  body  which  held  the  gay,  innocent, 
flower-like  soul,  was  hid  quietly  in  the  churchyard  at 
Vevey,  there  was  but  one  thought  in  Kitty's  mind. 
The  English  cousins,  the  kind  Swiss  friends,  might 
plead  as  they  would;  they  all  wanted  her;  it  would 
mean  so  much  to  them  if  she  would  make  her  home 
with  them.  Kitty  thanked  them  all  with  tears,  and 
took  the  next  and  swiftest  steamer  for  home. 

A  plain  square  hall,  with  stairs  going  up  at  one 
side ;  old  prints  on  the  walls :  Regulus  and  the  Cartha- 
ginian Ambassadors,  Cornelia,  Mother  of  the  Grac- 
chi : — Kitty  had  a  loving  glance  for  all :  the  very  oil- 
cloth felt  friendly  under  her  feet.  Had  not  Grand- 
father Ross  laid  it  down  fifty  years  ago,  when  oil- 
cloth was  oilcloth,  and  not,  as  dear  Father  used  to  say, 
brown  paper  and  fish  glue? 

It  was  late  January,  but  the  Christmas  wreaths  still 
hung  in  the  windows,  the  fir  boughs  over  the  picture- 
frames.  The  mail-table,  with  its  scales  and  weights, 
the  barometer,  the  hanging  shelf  where  garden  baskets 
and  implements  slept  the  long  winter  away — Kitty's 
glance  took  them  all  in  lovingly. 

"Fire's  in  the  settin'  room!"  said  Sarepta. 

Kitty  turned  to  the  right,  and  entered  the  room  she 
loved  best  in  the  world.  Shabby,  Mrs.  Sharpe  called 
the  sitting  room  of  Ross  House.  If  it  was  shabby,  no 
one  but  Mrs.  Sharpe  knew  it.  The  rugs  were  worn,  it 
is  true,  the  original  patterns  lost  in  a  warm  blending 
of  reds  and  blues,  but  they  were  still  thick  and  soft, 

31 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


and  only  Sarepta  knew  of  the  mended  places.  The 
wallpaper  had  not  been  changed  since  the  memory  of 
man.  Why  should  it  be,  when  it  was  in  perfect  con- 
dition? And  how  much  of  it  was  visible  anyhow? 
Mellow,  rich,  warm :  one  sought  for  other  kindred 
words,  feeling  the  friendly  harmony  of  everything 
from  the  Piranesi  etchings  to  the  books  which  lined 
half  the  walls  and  lay  on  every  available  flat  surface. 
The  fireplace  occupied  most  of  one  side,  the  fire  leaped 
and  crackled  behind  the  high  fender — not  so  high  as 
it  used  to  be,  Kitty,  when  you  and  Tom  "stumped" 
each  other  to  climb  on  it  and  grimace  at  your  reflec- 
tions in  the  round  balls  of  the  andirons.  A  leather 
sofa  stood  before  the  fireplace :  well !  I  grant  that  the 
sofa  was  shabby,  but  who  cared  ?  Never  was  another, 
old  or  new,  to  compare  with  it  in  comfort.  Kitty  sank 
down  on  it  now,  and  stretched  her  hands  to  the  blaze, 
and  made  a  little  sound,  half  moan,  half  coo,  of  utter 
thankfulness.  Sarepta,  erect  in  the  doorway,  hands 
folded  over  her  spotless  apron,  had  the  air  of  waiting 
for  something.  Presently  Kitty  spoke  over  her  shoul- 
der, her  eyes  still  fixed  on  the  fire. 

"She  didn't  suffer  at  all,  Sarepta!" 

Sarepta  grunted. 

"She  just  faded  away  quietly,  like  a  flower.  It 
was  like — do  you  remember  how  I  used  to  put  the 
hollyhocks  in  the  little  black  pool,  under  the  trees? 
They  didn't  wither  or  crumple  up,  they  just  grew  more 
transparent,  day  by  day,  till  at  last  they  seemed  almost 
to  melt  into  the  water :  it  was  more  like  that  than  anv- 
thing  else." 

32 


Ross  House 

Sarepta  grunted  again.  "Got  your  feet  wet  reg'lar 
every  time  you  did  it!"  she  said. 

"She  knew  she  was  going,"  the  clear  lovely  voice 
went  on,  as  if  repeating  a  lesson.  "She  asked  me  to — 
to  leave  her  there,  among  the  flowers :  she  was  so  tired, 
she  thought  it  would  trouble  her  in  heaven  to  know 
that — it — was  being  carried  about.  And  then — she 
said — 'Go  home,  darling!  Go  home  to — Sarepta  and 
John  Tucker :  they  will — take — care — '  " 

The  clear  voice  faltered,  broke:  Sarepta  Darwin 
threw  her  apron  over  her  head  and  went  away. 

An  hour  later,  a  composed  and  cheerful  Kitty  was 
greeting  Nelly  Chanter,  who  came  in  rosy  and  breath- 
less as  usual,  full  of  tender  incoherence. 

"Darling  Kitty!  so  heavenly  of  Sarepta  to  ask  me 
to  come !  I  didn't  mean  to  be — oh,  Kitty,  you  are  home 
again!  I  thought  you  never — what  a  perfectly  deli- 
cious kitten!" 

All  the  embarrassment  was  Nelly's,  and  she  did  not 
quite  know  what  to  make  of  the  sensation,  an  unfamil- 
iar one  to  Chanters ;  but  she  was,  as  Sarepta  said,  the 
most  sensible  of  them,  and  followed  Kitty's  lead  read- 
ily. The  trunks  had  come,  Kitty  said;  they  wouldn't 
begin  really  to  unpack,  it  was  too  near  supper  time,  but 
she  must  just  open  the  little  leather  one,  and  get  out 
— come  along! 

Up  the  stairs  they  went,  every  step  holding  its  greet- 
ing for  Kitty,  every  touch  of  the  carved  rail  sending 
its  little  thrill  through  her;  round  the  turn,  up  to  the 
landing,  where  the  orange  tree  was  in  full  fruitage — 
one,  two,  three, — twelve  oranges! 

33 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


"Do  look,  Nelly!    Sarepta  is  a  wonder,  isn't  she?" 

Past  the  door  from  which  the  voice  had  always 
called  as  she  went  by,  "Kitty  my  Pretty!  is  that  you?" 
— silent  now ;  the  door  open,  of  course,  Sarepta  knew 
enough  for  that,  but  not  to  be  glanced  at  yet — not  yet ! 
So  into  her  own  room  opposite,  where  the  fire  crackled 
as  gayly  as  in  the  room  below,  and  the  curtains  were 
drawn  and  the  candles  lighted. 

The  little  leather  trunk,  being  investigated,  yielded 
up  a  lace  blouse,  the  most  exquisite  dream  of  a  thing, 
according  to  Nelly,  that  ever  was  seen.  It  couldn't 
be  for  her !  no !  It  wasn't  possible !  Reassured  on  this 
point,  Nelly  was  overwhelmed.  How  could  she  ever, 
ever,  ever  thank  Kitty  enough? 

"Hush,  Nelly!  it  isn't  half  pretty  enough  for  you. 
Tell  me  about  everybody!  Your  mother  is  well,  you 
say?  How  is  Madam  Flynt?" 

"Very  well,  except  for  her  rheumatism.  I  saw  her 
this  morning:  she  sent  her  best  love,  and  hopes  you 
will  come  in  to-morrow.  She  can't  walk  much  in  this 
slippery  weather:  she  has  been  driving—  Nelly 
stopped  suddenly,  with  a  queer  look :  one  would  say  a 
guilty  look. 

Kitty,  now  in  her  white  wrapper,  brushing  out  her 
long  fair  hair  before  the  glass,  and  looking,  Nelly 
thought,  like  a  heavenly  mermaid,  did  not  see  the  look. 

"Well,  she  wouldn't  be  driving  next  door  anyhow," 
she  said.  "I'll  run  over  right  after  breakfast.  Let 
me  see!  I've  seen  all  the  dearest  people,  except  your 
mother  and  Madam  Flynt.  Wasn't  it  darling  of  them 

34 


Ross  House 

to  come  to  meet  me?    How  handsome  Miss  Ahneria 
looked !   How  are  the  Wibirds,  Nell  ?" 

"Much  as  usual,  I  think.  Melissa  is  poorly,  but  she 
keeps  on  at  the  Library.  I  don't  think  she's  having  a 
very  good  winter.  Poor  Melissa !" 

Nelly's  rosy  face  clouded  slightly. 

"Wilson?"  Kitty  spoke  low. 

"Yes!  pretty  bad  this  winter,  I'm  afraid.  Mrs.  Wi- 
bird  can't  control  him,  nor  any  one  else  except  Mr. 
Mallow  and  Billy." 

"How's  Mr.  Cheeseman?" 

"Oh,  just  the  same !  all  agog  to  see  you,  like  every 
one  else.  I  was  in  there  yesterday,  and  he  was  making 
every  kind  of  candy  you  had  ever  liked  since  you  were 
a  baby,  so  he'd  be  sure  to  have  the  right  thing  on  hand. 
And  Mr.  Bygood  was  so  excited  about  your  coming 
he  got  no  nap  yesterday,  and  Miss  Egeria  was  so  wor- 
ried! But  Miss  Almeria  told  her  joy  was  the  best 
thing  for  the  aged,  so  she  cheered  up.  My  dear,  I 
think  you'll  have  to  go  and  see  them  all  to-morrow,  or 
they  will  all  pass  away,  and  there  will  be  no  Cyrus 
left.  Kitty!" 

"Yes,  dear!" 

At  Nelly's  explosive  utterance  of  her  name,  Kitty, 
whose  toilet  had  been  progressing  while  they  talked, 
paused,  slipper  in  hand. 

"What  is  it,  Nelly?" 

"Oh,  nothing!  that  is — well,  Mother  just  wanted 
me  to  say  that  we  hope  you  will  come  to  live  with 
us!" 

"Why,  Nelly!" 

35 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


Nelly  went  on  with  a  rush.  "I  know  the  house  is 
•small  and  crowded,  but  just  listen!  The  boys  are 
dying  to  have  you,  simply  dying!  So  they  will  sleep 
in  the  barn-chamber,  and  Zephine  and  I  will  take  their 
room,  and  you  will  have  ours.  We've  got  it  all  planned 
out,  and  the  boys  have  always  wanted  to  have  the  barn- 
chamber,  and  they  will  fit  it  up  themselves,  so  you  see 
it  will  be  the  most  convenient  thing  in  the  world,  be- 
sides making  us  all  so  happy  we  want  to  dance  when- 
ever we  think  of  it.  Now,  Kitty,  say  you'll  think  about 
it?  Of  course,  you  can't  decide  this  moment,  and  of 
course  the  other  houses  are  bigger,  and  you  may  say 
some  of  them  are  lonely — the  people,  not  the  houses ! — 
but  you  will  think  about  it,  Kitty,  won't  you,  and  re- 
member that  we  spoke  first!" 

Kitty's  eyes  were  wide  with  astonishment,  but  full 
of  affection. 

"Of  course  I  will,  Nelly!  Why,  I  never  heard  of 
anything  so  kind  in  my  life.  Thank  your  dear  mother 
a  thousand  times,  and  tell  her — but  I  shall  tell  her  my- 
self. There's  the  bell!  Come  along.  I'm  sure  Sarepta 
has  pop-overs  for  us !" 

Sarepta  had  pop-overs  for  them,  marvelous  efflores- 
cences of  brown  and  gold,  such  as  all  Europe  could  not 
afford.  Kitty  exclaiming  to  this  effect,  Sarepta  grimly 
supposed  they  hadn't  the  faculty,  and  drew  attention  to 
the  creamed  chicken  and  oysters,  which  were  done  the 
way  Kitty  used  to  like  'em,  though  Sarepta  presumed 
she'd  learned  newer-fangled  ways  over  there.  Mebbe 
she  wouldn't  care.  Reassured  on  this  point,  she 
handed  the  fried  potatoes  with  a  challenging  air — she 

36 


Ross  House 

knew  no  one  could  beat  her  there — and  retired,  to 
count  over  every  word  Kitty  had  said  and  store  it 
away  for  future  need. 

The  girls  fell  to  their  supper  as  healthy,  hungry 
girls  should,  and  for  a  time  conversation  was  chiefly 
exclamatory,  dealing  with  the  wonders  of  Sarepta's 
cookery.  By  and  by,  however,  over  the  ice-cream 
which  made  it  a  "party,"  as  they  exclaimed  with  de- 
light, and  later,  sitting  on  the  sofa  before  the  singing, 
purring  fire,  they  had  much  talk,  Kitty  telling  of 
things  she  had  seen  abroad,  Nelly  wondering,  admir- 
ing, exclaiming.  But  always  the  talk  would  come  back 
to  Cyrus,  the  home  of  their  hearts,  and  to  the  people 
who  lived  there.  Only  two  thousand,  all  told,  this  in- 
cluding the  three  French  families  and  the  two  "Po- 
landers"  down  by  the  little  woolen  mill  which  was  our 
one  "industry,"  so  that  between  them  the  two  girls 
knew  or  knew  of  almost  every  one  within  the  village 
limits.  It  was  a  farming  community,  save  for  the  com- 
fortable store-keepers,  and  the  half  dozen  "tony"  fami- 
lies as  Mrs.  Sharpe  called  them,  whose  ample  mansions, 
white  or  yellow,  had  stood  about  the  Common  since 
Colonial  days.  Cyrus,  her  people  were  wont  to  say, 
did  not  grow:  she  remained.  I  don't  know  just  why 
they  were  proud  of  this  stationary  quality,  but  they 
certainly  were.  For  fifty  years,  the  population  had 
hardly  changed;  or  to  be  accurate,  it  had  changed  in 
so  gradual  and  regular  a  fashion  that  it  always  seemed 
the  same.  An  accurate  observer  like  Judge  Peters 
would  tell  you  that  once  in  about  thirty  years  there 
were  more  children :  the  schools  were  fuller,  the  wave 

37 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


of  youth  crept  slowly  up  till  street  and  meeting  house 
blossomed  with  youths  and  maidens.  Then,  still  grad- 
ually, the  wave  would  recede:  some  of  the  lads  went 
away  to  work,  some  of  the  lasses  married  "out-of- 
towners" ;  the  numbers  dwindled  again,  till  in  another 
thirty  years  another  vigorous  generation  would  come 
shouting  to  the  front. 

"And  how  is  Savory  Bite  ?"  asked  Kitty.  "Does  he 
still  live  alone?"  .  (This  gentleman's  real  name  was 
Avery  Bright,  but  he  was  never  called  by  it.) 

"My  dear,  yes !  No  one  goes  near  him :  where  is 
the  use,  when  he  won't  let  any  one  in?  He  did  our 
garden  last  spring,  and  was  just  the  same,  snapping 
your  head  off  if  you  spoke  to  him.  I  have  never  been 
in  the  house,  though  I  have  peeped  in  the  window 
sometimes.  It's  always  neat  as  wax,  I'll  say  that  for 
Savory." 

Kitty  gave  a  little  sudden  laugh. 

"I've  been  in  it !"  she  said.  "Tom  and  I  got  in  one 
day  through  the  cellar;  he  had  left  the  door  unlocked. 
We  got  up  into  the  kitchen,  and  had  a  wonderful  time. 
You  know  everything  is  painted  blue,  floor,  tables, 
chairs,  everything?  Well,  naughty  Tom  had  a  piece 
of  chalk  in  his  pocket,  and  what  does  he  do  but  write 
on  the  blue  table  in  big  letters, 

"  'Savory  Bite, 

Why  not  paint  it  white  ?' " 

A  silence  fell :  then  Nelly  asked  the  question  which 
had  been  on  her  tongue  twenty  times,  and  twenty  times 
kept  back. 

38 


Ross  House 

"Where  is  Tom,  Kitty  ?    Do  you  know  ?" 

Kitty  looked  straight  at  her  with  honest  eyes. 

"I  don't  know,  Nelly.  I  haven't  heard  one  word 
from  him.  I  wrote,"  she  added,  "when  Father  died 
— that  was  after  Mrs.  Lee's  death,  but  I  knew  he  was 
in  Omaha,  and  I  had  his  uncle's  address — but  I  never 
had  one  word  of  answer." 

If  a  writer  could  only  tell  all  she  knows!  That 
letter,  Kitty,  in  which  you  poured  out  your  sad  heart 
to  the  lad  who  had  been  brother,  playmate  and  boy 
lover  ever  since  you  can  remember,  is  in  the  pocket  of 
his  uncle's  spring  overcoat,  now  laid  away  in  cam- 
phor, till  the  first  of  May,  when  he  changes  from  win- 
ter to  spring  clothes,  regardless  of  weather.  His  uncle 
is  not  a  villain,  far  from  it ;  he  would  gladly  forward 
the  letter,  only  he  does  not  know  it  is  there,  nor  will 
till  the  above  date. 

As  for  Tom's  letter  to  you,  Kitty,  written  about  the 
same  time,  I  don't  know  whose  pocket  that  is  in.  He 
wrote  it  on  board  the  steamer  at  San  Francisco,  and 
sent  it  back  by  the  pilot :  but  it  never  reached  you.  It 
was  a  good  letter,  too.  Tom  knew  nothing  of  Dr. 
Ross's  death :  full  of  his  own  recent  loss  of  a  beloved 
mother,  he  thought  of  you  in  your  happy  home  with 
the  two  dear  and  delightful  parents  who  seemed  to 
belong  almost  equally  to  him — almost!  He  told  you 
of  his  great  "job";  he  begged  you  to  think  of  him 
whenever  you  had  a  minute  to  spare,  but  not  to  bother 
about  writing,  because  he  had  no  address  to  give  be- 
yond the  Shanghai  Bank,  and  he  might  not  get  back 
there  for  a  year  or  two,  from  the  way  the  job  looked 

39 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


at  this  end.  But  you  would  know  he  was  thinking 
about  you,  and  you  must  be  a  good  Cat  and  purr  a 
great  deal,  and  not  scratch  anybody  except  Wilson 
Wibird.  And  when  he  came  back,  Kitty — well,  per- 
haps he'd  better  wait  till  then,  but  all  the  same  you 
knew  well  enough,  so  he  remained  yours  always, 
The  Duke  of  Lee. 

Yes,  that  letter  would  have  comforted  Kitty  a  great 
deal :  it  was  a  pity  she  did  not  get  it. 

Tom,  meanwhile,  building  bridges  in  a  remote  prov- 
ince of  northern  China,  supposed  comfortably  that 
she  had  got  it,  and  thought  of  her  daily  with  great 
contentment. 

So  things  go — sometimes !  And  here  is  Sarepta  with 
the  bedroom  candles. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE    HOME   GUARD 

EARLY  next  morning,  Nelly  was  off  for  her 
school.  Kitty,  after  waving  her  good-bye  from 
the  gate,  went  back  into  the  house;  into  the 
kitchen,  where  she  knew  Sarepta  was  expecting  her. 
"You  come  out  quick  as  you  get  shet  of  her!"  had 
been  the  mandate,  which  Kitty  would  never  have 
thought  of  disobeying. 

"Dear  kitchen !"  she  said.  "I  saw  nothing  like  this, 
in  Europe,  Sarepta!" 

"I  expect  not !"  said  Sarepta,  with  a  lift  of  her  chin. 
"Take  a  seat!" 

Kitty  sat  down  obediently  in  a  Windsor  chair,  and 
looked  about  her  with  great  content.  Her  eyes  passed 
from  the  shining  stove  to  the  cupboard  full  of  beauti- 
ful old  blue  crockery,  the  pride  of  Sarepta's  heart; 
to  the  scarlet  geraniums  in  the  window,  the  yellow  cat 
on  her  scarlet  cushion.  All  good,  all  delightful.  She 
had  come  home. 

"But  what  is  all  this,  Sarepta?"  asked  Kitty. 

On  the  shining  table  sat  a  number  of  plump  little 
bags,  of  stout  unbleached  cotton,  bearing  brief  inscrip- 
tions in  blackest  ink.  Kitty  took  them  up  one  by  one, 
and  read  in  wonder:  "Eggs,"  "Tomatoes,"  "Sarce." 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


"What  in  the  world,  Sarepta?" 

Sarepta,  standing  rigid,  her  hands  folded  in  her 
apron,  made  austere  reply. 

"There  was  no  reason  as  I  know  of  why  things 
should  go  to  waste.  Your  Ma  wasn't  fit  to  see  to  'em 
before  she  went  away.  There  wasn't  no  need  she 
should.  I  should  hope  I  knew  something!  This — " 
she  took  up  the  stoutest  bag,  "is  the  egg  and  chicken 
money.  The  hens  has  done  real  well;  I've  sold  eggs 
and  broilers  and  roosters.  You  count  that!"  She 
named  a  sum.  "I  expect  it's  right." 

"Sarepta !  you  dear,  good  soul !   How  could  you — " 

"This  is  sarce!"  Sarepta  continued,  taking  up  an- 
other bag.  "Sugar  was  low  and  fruit  was  high,  so 
I  done  well  there  too.  I  made  two  hundred  glasses  of 
currant  jell,  and  three  hundred  of  grape,  and — " 

"But,  Sarepta!   What  did  you  do  with  them  all?" 

"Sold  'em!  Mis'  Flynt  wasn't  puttin'  up,  herself, 
this  year,  didn't  want  to  bother  with  it.  No  more  did 
Miss  Bygoods.  And  Mr.  Mallow  gi'  me  the  hull  of 
his  order,  so  you  see — " 

"I  see !"  Kitty  became  thoughtful.    "Sarepta—" 

"Well!"  the  answer  was  a  snap,  thrown  backward 
over  an  uncompromising  shoulder.  Sarepta  was  sud- 
denly very  busy  at  the  stove,  rattling  and  raking  with 
much  commotion. 

"Sarepta !  You  didn't — you  didn't  ask  for  these  or- 
ders, did  you?" 

Sarepta  turned  round ;  her  face  was  like  an  iceberg 
carved  with  a  jackknife. 

"Was  your  Pa  satisfied  with  me?" 

42 


The  Home  Guard 


"Sarepta !   You  know  he  adored  you !" 
"Was  your  Ma  satisfied  with  me  ?" 
"Sarepta  dear!     Don't  be  cantankerous!" 
"Was  your  Ma  satisfied  with  me?" 
"Of  course  she  was!    How  can  you — " 
"I  made  sarce  before  you  was  born  or  thought  of !" 
Sarepta's  tone  expressed  finality.     "I've  always  made 
it — and  I've  never  took  it!"  she  added  with  a  grim 
chuckle  which  splintered  the  iceberg  in  a  singular  way. 
"Anything   else?"    Sarepta's  tone   was  amiable,   but 
conveyed  the  idea  that  she  had  things  to  do.  however 
it  might  be  with  other  people. 

"Just  one  thing,  Sarepta  dear,  and  then  I'll  go. 
Have  you  taken  your  wages  out  of  this  money?  If 
not,  hadn't  we  better  settle  it  now?" 

Sarepta  made  no  immediate  reply.  Instead,  she 
examined  the  draughts  of  the  stove  one  by  one,  with 
meticulous  care.  Apparently  satisfied  with  their  con- 
dition, she  next  proceeded  to  brush  the  stove  top 
(which  did  not  need  brushing)  and  to  fill  the  kettle 
with  ostentatious  zeal.  Kitty  waited  patiently,  enjoy- 
ing the  kitchen  and  stroking  the  yellow  cat.  Finally, 
Sarepta  washed  her  hands  elaborately,  rolled  them  in 
her  apron,  and  turned  round.  So  turning,  she  dis- 
played the  iceberg  set  again  in  rigid  lines.  The  words 
appeared  to  freeze  as  they  dropped  from  her  lips.  Sa- 
repta had  come  to  this  house  with  Kitty's  Ma,  she  in- 
timated, when  first  she  come  here  a  bride. 

"Sarepta,"  Mrs.  Ross  had  said,  "this  is  my  home, 
and  it  is  yours,  too.  as  long  as  you  live."  Was  that  so, 
or  wasn't  it? 

43 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


"Yes,  Sarepta,  that  is  true." 

"Well,  then !  I  was  offered  a  home,  and  I  expect  a 
home,  long  as  I  need  it.  When  I  want  wages,  I'll  ask 
for  'em.  It's  likely  I'd  take  'em  from  a  child  like 
you." 

"But—'  cried  Kitty. 

"Butter!"  replied  Sarepta.  Then  they  both  felt  bet- 
ter, for  this  was  the  give  and  take  of  Kitty's  child- 
hood. 

"But  I  do  wish  you  would  be  reasonable,  Sarepta! 
John  Tucker  has  always  had  his  wages,  hasn't  he?" 

"John  Tucker  has  a  wife  and  fam'ly.  His  wife  has 
about  as  much  gumption  as  a  week-old  guinea-pig,  and 
the  way  that  eldest  boy  of  theirs  is  growin'  up  is 
enough  to  scare  the  feathers  off  a  hen;  he's  got  to 
have  wages,  of  course.  And  I've  had  'em,  Kitty,  all 
I  wanted,  and  money  in  the  bank.  My  uncle  left  me 
his  farm  and  savin's,  last  year,  if  you  have  to  know. 
And  if  I'm  pestered  any  more — "  Sarepta's  voice 
dropped  to  an  ominous  note — "I'll  go  and  live  there ! 

"There!"  she  added  in  a  different  tone.  "You  just 
let  me  do  the  way  I  want  to,  Kitty,  and  we'll  get  along 
first  rate.  I'm  crotchety,  but  yet  I  mean  well;  only  I 
can't  bear  to  be  crossed.  Run  along  now,  child,  and 
take  your  money.  I'd  put  it  in  the  bank  if  I  was  you. 
I'm  busy  now,"  she  added  abruptly,  as  Kitty  tried  to 
speak.  "Besides,  that  John  Tucker  wanted  you  should 
come  out  to  the  stable  right  away.  Dinner  at  one 
o'clock!" 

"Dear  me !"  sighed  Kitty,  as  she  made  her  way  to- 
ward the  stable.  "I  feel  just  like  Alice  in  Wonderland  : 

44 


The  Home  Guard 


I  never  was  ordered  about  so  in  my  life.  Dear  old 
thing!  I  shall  always  be  ten  to  her,  I  suppose.  But 
her  name  ought  to  be  Pomona :  she's  right  out  of  'Rud- 
der Grange' !  Now  for  John  Tucker !  I  hope  he  hasn't 
been  making  sarce !" 

John  Tucker  was  wont  to  say,  Sarepty's  kitchen  was 
all  right,  but  give  him  the  harness-room!  He  was  in 
the  harness-room  now,  and  it  certainly  was  a  pleasant 
place.  A  quaint  little  stove,  of  antiquated  pattern,  faced 
the  door,  and  in  front  of  the  stove  were  two  comfort- 
able wooden  arm-chairs,  one  for  John  and  one  for  a 
visitor.  John  generally  had  visitors,  in  his  few  spare 
hours.  People  came  to  ask  him  everything — except 
in  the  medical  way — that  they  used  to  ask  Dr.  Ross. 
The  window  of  the  little  room  looked  out  on  the  gar- 
den, the  glazed  upper  half  of  the  door  gave  a  cheerful 
prospect  of  the  stable,  with  its  white-swathed  vehicles 
— the  doctor's  buggy,  the  little  phaeton,  the  old  carry- 
all, rather  past  use,  but  a  wonderful  place  to  play  house 
in.  You  could  not  see  the  two  box-stalls  from  the 
harness-room,  for  they  were  on  the  same  side  of  the 
stable;  but  you  could  hear  Pilot  and  Dan  stamping 
and  talking  to  each  other  through  the  partition.  Kitty 
had  already  visited  them,  and  given  them  sugar,  and 
rubbed  their  dear  velvet  noses,  and  wept  a  little  on 
their  sympathetic  necks. 

"Good  morning,  John!  How  cosy  you  look  in 
here!" 

"Good  morning,  Miss  Kitty !  Step  in !  step  in !  I'm 
pleased  to  see  you.  Take  a  seat,  won't  you  ?" 

Kitty  sat  down  obediently,  as  she  had  done  in  the 

45 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


kitchen.  John's  tone  was  not  Sarepta's:  he  was 
never  autocratic.  When  Kitty  was  three,  he  had  ad- 
vanced the  opinion  that  "this  filly  must  be  druv  with 
the  snaffle !"  and  had  regulated  his  words  and  ways  ac- 
cordingly. 

"The  horses  look  beautifully,  John !  Of  course,  they 
always  do." 

John  expected  the  horses  might  look  worse.  He 
didn't  know  as  they  would  be  special  easy  to  beat  in 
this  county — or  State,  either,  come  to  that! 

"What  a  beauty  Pilot  is !  And  dear  old  Dan  is  just 
as  handsome  in  his  way.  I  suppose  they  are  quite  val- 
uable horses,  John?" 

"I  s'pose  they  be!"  John  Tucker  spoke  gruffly,  and 
turned  his  head  away.  Something  in  the  girl's  tone 
and  wistful  look  made  his  eyes  smart.  He  put  too 
much  pepper  on  that  fur  robe,  he  knowed  he  did  when 
he  done  it.  Thus  John  Tucker,  muttering. 

"I  asked,  John  dear,  because — "  Kitty's  hand  was 
on  his  arm  now,  fingering  his  rough  sleeve  as  she 
used  to  in  the  days  when  she  sat  on  his  knee  and,  being 
interrogated  as  to  whose  gal  she  was,  replied,  "Don 
Tutter's  dal!" — "because — I  suppose  we  ought  to  sell 
them,  John  Tucker,  dear.  There  is  very,  very  little 
money,  you  know.  Was  that  what  you  wanted  to  see 
me  about,  John?" 

"Miss  Kitty!"  John  Tucker  turned  his  rugged  face 
toward  her  now,  and  it  was  aglow  with  feeling :  "Don't 
sell  them  hosses!  That  was  what  I  wanted  to  say  to 
you,  and  I  say  it  again.  Don't  sell  them  hosses!  If 
money  is  needed,  and  I'm  aware  it  is,  there  is  more 

46 


The  Home  Guard 


money  to  be  made  by  keepin'  them  bosses  than  by 
sellin'  'em.  Lemme  tell  you;  don't  be  mad  with  me, 
Miss  Kitty,  for  I  done  the  best  I  knew  how." 

"Of  course  you  did,  John!  As  if  you  ever  did  any- 
thing else.  Why  do  you  look  at  me  so  strangely,  John 
Tucker?" 

"Miss  Kitty,  I  say  it  again,  I  done  the  best  I  knew 
how.  Now  lemme  tell  you!  Yoa  remember  Flana- 
gan?" 

"Flanagan,  the  cab-driver?  Of  course  I  do!  Why, 
I  didn't  see  him  at  the  station  yesterday.  Wasn't  he 
there?  He  used  to  say  he  never  missed  a  train." 

"He's  missed  consid'ble  many  lately,"  said  John 
Tucker  grimly.  "Flanagan's  complaint  is  that  he's 
dead.  Yes,  ma'am,"  in  answer  to  Kitty's  exclama- 
tion, "dropped  off  settin'  right  there  in  his  team  at  the 
depot.  Folks  was  surprised." 

"I  should  think  so !  Why,  Flanagan  !  Why,  John, 
I  should  as  soon  think  of  the  train's  dying!  What  do 
people  do  without  him?" 

John  Tucker  cleared  his  throat  elaborately. 

"I  happened  to  be  there,  and  I  drove  the  folks  home 
that  he'd  come  to  fetch.  That  was  the  way  it  began." 

"The  way  what  began,  John  Tucker?" 

John  Tucker  rose  and  looked  out  of  the  window. 

"Wind's  workin'  round  no'theast!"  he  muttered. 
"We  shall  have  snow  flyin'  before  night.  Miss  Kitty, 
you'll  see  it  reasonable,  I  know  you  will.  Take  a  look 
at  it  by  and  large !"  He  turned,  and  threw  an  appeal- 
ing look  at  the  girl.  "Here  was  Flanagan  dead,  warn't 
he  ?  And  no  insurance,  so  to  speak.  Hosses  and  cab 

47 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


sold  to  pay  for  the  funeral  and  the  board  bill :  hadn't 
no  folks,  Flanagan  hadn't;  boarded  to  Widow  Pea- 
vey's.  Well !  there  was  the  train  to  be  met  mornin'  and 
night,  and  there  was  Madam  Flynt  to  be  took  her 
airin',  and  Mr.  Bygood  sim'lar,  to  and  from  the  store. 
The  gals  don't  want  him  to  walk  up  the  hill,  'cause  of 
his  heart,  and  I  dono  as  I  blame  'em.  Considerin'  his 
age,  you  know.  And — the  hosses  had  to  be  exercised, 
no  two  ways  about  that." 

He  paused :  Kitty's  eyes  were  shining,  and  she  took 
up  the  word  eagerly. 

"And  you  have  been  doing  all  this,  John  Tucker! 
You  have  been  meeting  the  trains  and  taking  the  dear 
people  to  drive,  while  they  are  finding  some  one  in 
Flanagan's  place  ?  You  clever  John !  Why,  I  think  it 
was  a  wonderful  idea!  Of  course  I  am  perfectly  de- 
lighted. And  have  they  found  a  new  Flanagan  yet? 
Because,  of  course,  you'll  go  right  on  till  they — " 

John  Tucker's  face  was  almost  as  craggy  as  Sarep- 
ta's,  as  he  faced  Kitty  again : 

"Found?"  he  said  gruffly.  "They've  found  me.  I'm 
Flanagan :  you're  Flanagan.  •  Miss  Kitty — "  he  lifted 
a  newspaper  from  the  little  table,  displaying  sundry 
piles  of  silver  coin,  arranged  in  neat  pyramids;  the 
base  "cart-wheels"  dollars,  the  top  dimes.  "Here's 
your  money!"  said  John.  "All  that's  ben  taken  in 
this  six  months  since  Flanagan  died.  You  can  take 
out  my  wages,  if  you're  a  mind  to,  'count  of  Mary  and 
the  children:  the  rest  is  yours,  lawful  money,  well 
aimed,  if  I  say  it.  Don't — don't  you  cry,  Miss  Kitty! 

48 


The  Home  Guard 


don't  you  now !  I  done  the  best  I  knew  how.  I  talked 
it  over  with  Judge  Peters,  and  he  said,  'Stu*  boy' ;  'twas 
the  best  I  could  do;  Mis'  Flynt  the  same,  and 
Sarepty.  Don't  you  cry,  Miss  Kitty!" 

Kitty  explained  through  her  tears  that  she  wasn't 
really  crying;  it  was  only  because  every  one  was  so 
darling  and  kind,  and — and — why  did  the  tears  come 
so  easily  ?  There  had  been  none,  until  she  came  home ; 
she  had  longed  for  them  sometimes,  when  her  head 
throbbed,  and  her  eyes  burned  so  hot  and  dry ;  now,  the 
least  thing  brought  them  welling  up,  and  every  time 
some  band  seemed  loosed  from  her  heart. 

"It  seems  very — very  strange,  John  Tucker,  dear, 
to  be  taking  money  from  the  neighbors!"  Kitty  dried 
her  eyes  and  looked  up.  "I  am  going  to  be  sensible, 
John,  and  I  know  you  did  the  very  best — but  it  does 
seem  strange,  John  Tucker !  do  you  think  Father  would 
like  it?" 

John  Tucker's  eyes  were  very  blue  and  very  bright. 

"Miss  Kitty,  if  there  is  one  thing  under  the  canopy 
that  I  am  sure  of,  it's  that  Doctor  would  approve. 
Doctor,  you  see,  was  reasonable.  He'd  see  right  off 
that  here  on  one  side  was  hosses  to  be  fed,  and  grain 
costin'  thus  and  so;  and  hosses  to  be  exercised,  or 
they'd  go  lame  and  poor.  And  he'd  see  on  the  other 
side,  here  was  folks  needin'  to  be  hauled,  and  no  one 
to  haul  'em.  Well,  then  Doctor  would  say, — 'pears 
like  I  could  hear  him,  and  have  heard  him  right  along, 
'When  you're  dealin'  with  hosses,'  he'd  say,  'you  need 
hoss  sense.'  And  this  is  hoss  sense,  Miss  Kitty,  or  I 
don't  know  it." 

49 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


Kitty  rose  and  held  out  her  little  hand,  to  be  en- 
gulfed in  John  Tucker's  huge  brown  one. 

"That's  enough,  John  Tucker!"  she  said;  and  up 
went  her  chin.  "I  can  hear  him,  too.  We  will  be  part- 
ners, John:  Tucker  and  Ross!  Only  you  will  do  all 
the  work,  John  Tucker  dear,  I  know  you  will." 

John  Tucker,  looking  at  her,  fell  into  such  a  glow- 
ing state  that  the  stove  was  nowhere  beside  him. 

"Now  there!"  he  said.  "What  did  I  tell  you?  She's 
her  Pa's  own  gal!" 

"And  now  I  must  go  and  see  Madam  Flynt!  You 
say  she  knows  all  about  the  Great  Plan,  John?" 

"And  approves!  Madam  Flynt  is  a  real  sensible 
woman." 

He  followed  Kitty  out  of  the  harness-room,  and 
they  moved  instinctively  to  the  stalls,  where  two  dark 
satin  heads  were  thrust  eagerly  forward,  two  velvet 
noses  sneezed  and  sniffed  in  eager  greeting. 

"You  darlings!"  cried  Kitty.  "No,  Dan,  no  more 
sugar.  You  are  not  a  pet  lamb  any  more,  dear:  you 
are  a  Horse  of  Business,  and  must  realize  your  respon- 
sibilities. I  shall  drive  Madam  Flynt  myself,  John, 
most  days." 

"I  thought  likely  you  would!"  chuckled  John. 
"You'll  have  to  go  keerful,  though,  Miss  Kitty;  it's 
slow  and  sure  with  Madam  Flynt.  None  of  your  Bible 
doin's  with  her  along!" 

"Bible  doings?   What  do  you  mean,  John  Tucker?" 

John  Tucker  chuckled  again. 

"I  was  only  thinkin'  of  Doctor !"  he  said.  "  'A 
daughter  of  Jehu,  for  behold  she  driveth  furiously'." 

50 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    NEIGHBORS 

MADAM  FLYNT  was  evidently  expecting 
Kitty.  She  was  ready  dressed  and  in  the 
drawing-room:  the  large,  bright  room  with 
its  hangings  of  apple  green  and  gold  brocade,  its  gilded 
cornices  and  fire  screen.  Dr.  Ross  used  to  say  that 
the  room  was  an  apple-tree  bower,  and  Madam  Flynt 
the  apple;  indeed,  she  did  look  like  one,  a  Bellefleur, 
say,  or  a  rosy  Porter.  A  woman  of  sixty,  large,  mas- 
sive, fair.  Her  hair  was  faded  from  the  bright  gold 
of  her  girlhood,  but  was  still  yellow;  her  eyes  were 
China  blue,  her  cheeks  apple  red.  The  color  was  so 
set  in  them  (no  one  had  ever  seen  Madam  Flynt  pale, 
even  in  sickness)  that  a  stranger  might  well  think  it 
clumsy  art,  instead  of — what  shall  I  say,  over-zealous 
Nature?  The  story  ran  that  one  day  in  her  youth, 
walking  along  the  street,  she  heard  a  stranger  say 
after  passing  her,  "Painted,  by  God !"  She  turned  in- 
stantly. 

"Yes,  sir,"  she  said  calmly,  "I  am  painted  by  God !" 
Of  course  this  was  not  in  Cyrus:   Cyrus  people 
knew. 

"Well,  Kitty !"  Madam  Flynt  held  out  a  large,  plump 
white  hand,  amply  be-ringed.  She  was  dressed  in  flow- 
Si 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


ing  robes  of  green  and  white,  a  most  un-negligent 
"negligee,"  and  was  a  pleasant  sight  enough.  "Well, 
Kitty !  You  have  to  come  to  me,  you  see.  I  couldn't 
go  down  with  the  rest  of  the  town  to  meet  you.  I  am 
glad  to  see  you,  my  dear.  We  have  been  too  long  with- 
out you,  Kitty." 

"Dear  Madam  Flynt,  I  am  so  glad  to  get  home! 
How  is  the  rheumatism?" 

"The  rheumatism  is  very  well,  Kitty,  it  thanks  you : 
it's  more  vigorous  than  I  am;  but  I  do  very  well,  on 
the  whole,  very  well.  I  get  my  airing,  which  is  the 
principal  thing.  John  Tucker  told  you  of  our  little 
arrangement?  A  very  good  plan!  John  Tucker  is  a 
sensible  man.  He  and  Sarepta  are  really  an  able  pair. 
Pity  he  didn't  marry  her,  instead  of  that  poor  crea- 
ture, Mary  Spinney.  You  had  a  good  voyage,  my 
dear?" 

She  talked  easily,  Kitty  following  her  lead. 

"Glad  to  hear  it !  And  now,  Kitty,  I  hope  you  are 
going  to  be  a  sensible  girl,  and  do  as  I  wish." 

"As  you  wish,  Madam  Flynt?  About  the  driving? 
Oh,  surely!  I  am  only  too  grateful.  It  is  so  dear  of 
you—" 

"Nothing  of  the  kind!  A  business  arrangement, 
nothing  more.  Flanagan  was  dead — I  didn't  kill  him, 
did  I?  What  I  wish,  Kitty,  is  quite  another  thing.  I 
want  you  to  come  and  live  with  me." 

"Oh,  Madam  Flynt!" 

"There  is  everything  to  be  said  in  favor  of  the  plan," 
Madam  Flynt  swept  on,  "and  nothing  against  it,  so 
far  as  I  can  see.  You  can  manage  your  home  affairs, 

52 


The  Neighbors 


John  and  Sarepta,  the  house  and  so  on,  as  well  here 
as  there;  you've  only  to  step  across  the  yard.  I  need 
a  companion,  and  so  do  you." 

Kitty  opened  wide  eyes  of  astonishment. 

"Madam  Flynt!    Has  Miss  Croly  left  you?" 

"Miss  Croly  left  me?  Certainly  not.  Why  should 
she  leave  me?  Cornelia  Croly  is  as  old  as  I  am,  or 
very  near  it ;  she  needs  a  companion,  too.  She  grows 
more  set  every  day  of  her  life.  Just  move  that  poker, 
will  you,  Kitty?  To  the  left  side  of  the  fireplace! 
Cornelia  Croly  will  always  put  it  at  the  right ;  she  does 
it  to  assert  herself ;  she  told  me  so,  in  so  many  words. 
We  both  need  a  young  person  to  keep  us  from  biting 
each  other,  Kitty,  and  you  are  the  person." 

At  this  point,  Miss  Croly  entered  the  room,  beaming 
welcome.  Tall,  thin,  upright,  hard-favored,  with  the 
kindest  eyes  and  the  most  obstinate  chin  imaginable. 
Dressed  in  gray  alpaca  by  day,  in  purple  alpaca  by 
night,  with  little  benefit  of  fashion;  such  was  Miss 
Cornelia  Croly,  Madam  Flynt's  quondam  schoolmate 
— her  companion  now  these  many  years  of  her  widow- 
hood. The  two  made  a  singular  contrast,  yet  comple- 
mented each  other  oddly.  Kitty  could  never  think  of 
one  without  the  other.  Corolla  and  calyx,  Dr.  Ross 
used  to  call  them. 

Miss  Croly  had  to  hear  all  about  Kitty's  voyage; 
the  sea  had  a  fascination  for  her,  though  she  had  never 
ventured  upon  it. 

"A  storm !  how  thrilling !  the  wonders  of  the  deep !" 
sighed  Miss  Croly,  all  in  one  breath.  "You  make  it 

53 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


all  so  real,  Kitty.    I  can  hear  the  roar  of  the  elements 
and  the  dash  of  the  breakers — " 

As  she  spoke,  Miss  Croly  had  taken  up  the  poker, 
and  after  making  a  dab  at  the  fire,  was  gently  replac- 
ing it  at  the  right  of  the  fireplace,  when  Madam  Flynt 
interrupted  her. 

"There  are  no  breakers  in  mid-ocean,  Cornelia! 
And  will  you  kindly  leave  the  poker  where  it  was,  on 
the  left  side?" 

"Excuse  me,  my  dear  Clarissa,  it  is  far  more  con- 
venient on  the  right  side.  As  attending  to  the  fire  is 
one  of  my  little  duties — a  very  pleasant  one,  I  am 
sure — it  seems  not  unreasonable  for  me  to  have  the 
poker  where  I  can  use  it.  You  grant  that?" 

Seeing  Argument  throned  on  both  brows,  Kitty  rose 
hastily  and  made  her  excuses.  She  had  several  other 
visits  to  make;  she  would  run  in  this  evening,  or  surely 
to-morrow  morning.  Madam  Flynt  was  the  kindest 
of  the  kind,  as  she  always  was:  yes,  Kitty  would 
think  over  very  carefully  what  she  had  said,  and  would 
let  her  know :  she  thanked  her  ever  and  ever  so  much : 
good-bye!  "Good-bye,  Miss  Croly!  So  glad  to  see 
you!" 

Kitty  shut  the  door  on  a  rather  awful  "Cornelia!" 
and  fled,  only  stopping  a  moment  in  the  kitchen  to 
greet  the  two  maids,  friends  of  her  childhood,  and  to 
steal  a  cooky  from  'under  Sarah  Cook's  nose,  to  the 
huge  delight  of  that  kindly  mammoth. 

Down  the  street  sped  Kitty :  the  dear,  friendly  street, 
where  every  house  smiled  a  welcome,  every  window 
shed  a  friendly  blink.  The  Common  was  on  her  left, 

54 


The  Neighbors 


a  smooth  field  of  snow,  crossed  by  two  intersecting 
board  walks.  Every  tree  was  a  friend  too:  the  bare, 
graceful  branches  were  moving  in  the  crisp  breeze, 
and  each  seemed  to  wave  her  a  welcome.  There  was 
the  Earliest  Maple!  Kitty  wondered  what  children 
drove  their  spiles  and  hung  their  pails  now  for  the 
sap.  She  and  Tom  used  to  be  rather  odious,  she 
feared,  about  that  tree.  They  assumed  ownership  of 
all  rights  in  it,  both  tapping  and  climbing.  She  re- 
called a  keen  frosty  morning  like  this,  when  Wilson 
Wibird  had  "cut  in"  early,  pulled  out  her  spile  and 
driven  in  his  own.  Tom  came  like  a  flame  of  fire 
across  the  Common,  tore  out  the  spile  and  threw  it 
away,  then  pummeled  Wilson  till  he  ran  shrieking 
home.  Wilson  always  shrieked  when  any  one  touched 
him. 

Where  next  ?  Judge  Peters  would  be  at  his  office : 
she  would  go  down  there.  He  was  so  wise,  he  would 
tell  her  what  to  say  to  Madam  Flynt.  Resisting  the 
call  of  many  a  friendly  housefront,  Kitty  went  down 
the  hill  and  turned  into  "the  Street."  There  were  sev- 
eral streets  in  Cyrus,  be  it  understood,  but  only  one 
that  began  with  a  capital. 

The  first  person  she  met  was  Wilson  Wibird  him- 
self. He  was  on  the  opposite  sidewalk,  and  came 
across,  waving  his  hand  with  a  familiar  gesture. 

"Weedy,  seedy,  needy,  greedy !"  naughty  Tom !  But 
Wilson  looked  exactly  the  same,  only  a  man  instead  of 
a  hobbledehoy. 

"Katrine!  my  one  thought  since  I  opened  my  eyes 

55 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


this  morning.     Welcome!  a  hundred  thousand  wel- 
comes!" 

Kitty  gave  Wilson  her  hand  readily  enough,  but 
she  did  not  altogether  like  his  looks.  His  eyes  were 
bloodshot,  his  speech  thick ;  he  seemed  to  waver  a  lit- 
tle as  he  spoke. 

"How  do  you  do,  Wilson?  How  is  your  mother, 
and  Melissa?" 

"Less  well  than  I,  for  they  have  not  seen  you,  Kat- 
rine! You  are  more  beautiful  than  ever,"  murmured 
Mr.  Wibird.  He  cast  on  Kitty  what  he  would  have 
called  a  burning  glance.  To  Kitty  it  looked  rather 
like  a  leer,  but  she  must  not  be  unkind.  But  there  was 
no  earthly  reason  why  Wilson  Wibird  should  hold  her 
hand,  so  she  removed  it  firmly. 

"I  am  going  to  see  Judge  Peters,"  she  said:  her 
tone  was  cheerfully  matter-of-fact.  "Give  my  love  at 
home,  and  say  I'll  run  in  soon  to  see  your  mother." 

"My  way  is  yours!"  Mr.  Wibird  announced,  and 
fell  into  step,  to  Kitty's  great  annoyance.  Wilson  Wi- 
bird had  been  the  butt  of  her  childhood  and  Tom's; 
what  on  earth  did  he  mean  by  assuming  this  tone? 

They  were  just  outside  the  Mallow  House;  at  this 
moment  the  door  opened,  and  Mr.  Very  Jordano  came 
out.  He  had  been  taking  his  leisurely  breakfast  and 
reading  his  New  York  paper,  sitting  in  the  office  with 
Marshall  Mallow ;  and  seeing  the  meeting  between  the 
two  young  people  had  exchanged  a  word  with  his 
host  and  crony,  and  hastened  out. 

"Good  morning,  Miss  Kitty!"  he  said  urbanely. 
"The  sight  of  you  is  a  refreshment  indeed.  Good 

56 


The  Neighbors 

morning,  Wilson.  Mr.  Mallow  would  like  to  see  you 
a  moment,  if  you  have  a  moment  to  spare-pare-pare !" 

Mr.  Jordano's  tone  was  faintly  ironical,  as  he  fell 
into  step  with  Kitty  on  the  other  side.  Wilson  Wibird 
glared  at  him. 

"I  have  not!"  he  said  sullenly.  "I  am  escorting 
Miss  Ross." 

"That  shall  be  my  privilege!"  Mr.  Jordano  bowed 
blandly  to  Kitty.  "Go  away,  Wilson !"  he  added  in  a 
lower  and  different  tone.  "Go  quite  away-tay-tay  f 
Or  I'll  call  Billy!" 

Involuntarily,  Kitty  quickened  her  pace,  Mr.  Jor- 
dano beside  her.  The  other  stood  glowering,  irreso- 
lute :  suddenly  the  hotel  door  opened  again,  revealing 
Mr.  Mallow,  massive  and  rosy. 

"You  come  here,  Wilson !"  he  commanded.  "Don't 
stand  dilatorin'  there!  Come  on  in,  you  hear  me?" 

Mr.  Mallow  was  Wilson  Wibird's  uncle;  Mrs.  Wi- 
bird had  been  a  Mallow :  moreover,  such  work  as  Wil- 
son did  was  done  for  him.  The  young  man,  after 
kicking  the  curbstone  sullenly  for  a  moment,  obeyed 
the  summons  and  turned  into  the  hotel. 

Kitty  turned  to  Mr.  Jordano  with  a  breath  of  re- 
lief. 

"Quite  so!"  returned  that  gentleman.  "He  meant 
no  harm :  Wilson  meant  no  harm,  but  nimporto !  Miss 
Kitty,  I  welcome  this  opportunity  for  a  word  with 
you.  You  have  been  much  in  my  thoughts,  both  dur- 
ing your  absence  and  since  your  return.  Miss  Kitty, 
I  feel  assured  that  you  have  much  of  the  deepest  in- 
terest to  impart-tart-tart.  You  will  allow  me  the  priv- 

57 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


ilege  of  calling  on  you,  I  trust,  some  evening  in  the 
near  future?" 

"Oh,  surely,  Mr.  Jordano!  I  shall  be  very  glad  in- 
deed to  see  you." 

"You  have  seen  my  country,  Miss  Kitty !  Ah !  coun- 
terio  joyoso,  would  I  might  behold  it!  Italy,  Miss 
Kitty!  you  have  seen  Italy? 

"Yes,  Mr.  Jordano,  Mother  and  I  spent  last  winter 
in  Italy." 

"Ah!  happy,  happy — that  is — "  Mr.  Jordano  recol- 
lected himself,  and  changed  his  look  of  rapture  for 
one  of  sympathy — "tender  reminiscences!  tender  is 
the  word.  I  shall  take  great  pleasure  in  waiting  upon 
you,  Miss  Kitty.  It  has  occurred  to  me  that  you  might- 
tite-tite — that  you  might  be  willing  to  contribute  some 
Sketches  of  Travel  to  the  Centinel.  They  would  be 
eagerly  welcomed,  eagerly  welcomed,  by  all  Cyrus  and 
adjoining  towns :  the  Centinel,  you  may  be  aware,  has 
a  considerable  circulation.  Our  editorials  are  copied 
— nimporto!  but  if  you  could  give  me  some  sketches, 
Miss  Kitty,  I  should  regard  it  as  a  choice  boon.  No 
laborioso,  you  understand ;  nothing  that  would  burden 
your — a — elegant  leisure :  a  scratch  of  the  pen,  a 
scratch  of  the  pen !  the  light  feminine  touch.  It  would 
indeed  be  a  choice  boon.  The  honorarium — we  could 
arrange  at  a  later  date-tate-tate.  I  should  wish  to  be 

"Oh,  Mr.  Jordano,"  cried  downright  Kitty,  "I  never 
wrote  a  word  in  my  life,  except  just  letters,  and  very 
few  of  them.  Why,  I  couldn't!  and  as  for  writing  for 
a  newspaper — you  take  my  breath  away!  But  it's  just 

58 


The  Neighbors 


as  kind  of  you !"  she  cried.  "I  am  ever  so  much  ob- 
liged, Mr.  Jordano.  I  wish  I  could,  but  I  truly  could 
not.  I  know  I  couldn't." 

"Not  at  all !  not  at  all !"  Mr.  Jordano  was  still  bland, 
in  spite  of  his  evident  disappointment.  "The  modesty 
of  the  sex,  Miss  Kitty.  Perhaps  you  will  be  good 
enough  to  think  it  over.  A —  here  we  are  at  Judge 
Peters's,  and  I  will  leave  you.  I  shall  give  myself  the 
pleasure  of  calling — ah!  good  day-tay-tay !"  And 
the  good  gentleman  bowed  himself  off,  having,  indeed, 
stolen  precious  minutes  from  what  he  called  the  Ideals 
of  Italio,  his  special  contribution  to  the  weekly  Cen- 
tinel. 

Judge  Peters,  like  Madam  Flynt,  was  evidently  ex- 
pecting Kitty :  as  if  every  one  in  Cyrus  were  not !  The 
office  windows  were  as  dusty  as  ever — Kitty  half  ex- 
pected to  see  an  inscription  on  them  in  a  round  child- 
ish hand : 

"Tom-mee, 
Duke  of  Lee." 

— but  his  desk  was  a  miracle  of  tidiness.  His  own 
person  was  not  more  carefully  attired  than  usual,  be- 
cause that  would  have  been  difficult:  he  was  the  pic- 
ture of  a  dignified  jurist  as  he  sat  with  his  hand  in  the 
breast  of  his  coat,  reading  a  law  book  of  appalling 
size  and  weight. 

His  thin,  somewhat  austere  countenance  relaxed 
at  sight  of  Kitty.  He  rose  and  came  forward  with 
extended  hands,  grasping  hers  cordially. 

"My  dear  child!  welcome  again!  My  dear  Kitty,  I 
am  heartily  glad  to  see  you." 

59 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


He  was :  they  all  were :  never  was  such  a  welcome, 
thought  Kitty;  another  band  snapped,  and  she  looked 
up  into  the  kindly  face  with  a  smile  that  was  almost 
merry. 

"Dear  Judge  Peters !  you  are  so  good ;  everybody  is 
so  good.  Never  was  such  a  home-coming — " 

A  little  stumble  here,  but  only  for  a  moment.  Soon 
they  were  seated  comfortably,  the  Judge  in  his  chair, 
Kitty  on  a  certain  stool  which  had  been  hers  ever  since 
she  was  big  enough  to  visit  the  "Dudds"  in  his  office, 
which  was  long  before  she  could  speak  his  name  plain. 
Kitty  told  her  sad  little  story  to  a  running  commen- 
tary of  "H'm!"  "ha!"  or  "tut,  tut!"  which  conveyed  a 
sympathy  that  needed  no  words.  Then  the  Judge  took 
up  the  thread,  and  they  went  through  many  matters 
carefully  and  thoroughly.  Kitty  was  clear-headed;  he 
knew  that ;  she  had  to  know  just  where  she  stood.  Yes, 
yes!  There  was  something  left,  only  a  little,  but  a 
little  was  very  different  from  nothing.  Now  the  ques- 
tion was  how  they  were  to  add  to  that  little.  John  and 
Sarepta — yes!  yes!  good  souls!  good  souls!  they  had 
consulted  him.  Very  right,  very  proper.  A  nice  little 
nest-egg,  and  John  Tucker  could  carry  on  the  business 
perfectly.  The  question  was  about  Kitty  herself.  She 
— ah — had  not  heard  from  any  of  her  relatives  ?  True ! 
she  had  but  one,  and — they  need  not  go  into  that  at 
present.  Now,  the  Judge  had  a  proposition  to  make : 
a — a  business  proposition.  Here  was  he,  a  lone  man, 
sixty  years  old  and  not  getting  any  younger.  He  was 
lonely,  very  lonely,  in  that  big  house.  It  was  absurd 
that  he  should  be  lonely  in  one  house  and  Kitty  in 

60 


The  Neighbors 


another;  "absurd,  you  see  that.  Too  many  lonely 
people  in  Cyrus,  as  it  is.  I  want  you  to  come  and  live 
with  me,  Kitty.  There!  now  don't  answer  at  once: 
think  it  over !  I  never  had  a  daughter  of  my  own,  but 
you  have  always  been  like  a  daughter  to  me,  my  dear. 
I  think  we  could  be  very  comfortable  together:  very 
comfortable.  Another  thing!  I  need  help  here,  in 
the  office;  a — a — in  point  of  fact,  secretary!  now,  if 
you  could  manage  to  give  me  two  or  three  hours  a  day 
— not  too  much ;  not  enough  to  fatigue  you,  or  inter- 
fere with  your  getting  plenty  of  fresh  air  and  exercise 
— and  amusement,  too,  my  dear,  amusement,  too,  of 
course! — why,  it  would  be  a  great  help  and  comfort 
to  me,  and  the  salary — "  he  named  a  substantial  sum — 
"would  help  to  get — gloves,  you  know;  fal-lals,  my 
dear — toggery  of  various  descriptions.  Yes !  well,  my 
dear,  how  does  it  strike  you  ?" 

It  struck  Kitty  as  the  kindest  thought  that  ever  was 
in  the  wide  world.  Why  was  every  one  so  good  to 
her?  Why,  Madam  Flynt  had  asked  her  to  come  and 
live  with  her!  but — 

"That"  Judge  Peters  struck  in  with  some  heat: 
"that  is  unnecessary !  Clarissa — Madam  Flynt — has  a 
companion  already.  Cornelia  Croly  is  an  excellent 
person ;  they  have  lived  together  for  twenty  years ;  she 
cannot  think  of  discharging  Cornelia  Croly!  Mon- 
strous !" 

"Oh,  no!  no,  indeed,  Judge!  She  only  thought — 
she  seemed  to  think — they  both  needed  some  one  a  lit- 
tle younger — but  I — oh  no,  indeed!  I  only  promised 
to  think  it  over." 

61 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


"H'm!"  the  Judge  was  quite  flushed:  he  rose  and 
paced  the  floor.  "The  more  you  think  it  over,  Kitty, 
the  more  unconscionable  you  will  find  it.  Two 
women,  used  to  each  other  for  twenty  years,  fitting 
like  ball  and  socket  (I  admit  an  occasional  creak  of  the 
joint,  but  that  only  makes  for  variety)  :  a  young  girl 
cooped  up  in  that  house,  with  two  elderly  women  and 
a  spaniel — monstrous,  my  dear!  monstrous!  Now 
my  case " 

"But!"  cried  Kitty  to  herself,  as  she  went  down  the 
stairs,  after  a  solemn  promise  to  think  it  over  well, 
"the  dear  old  darling  things!  not  one  of  them  seems 
to  realize!" 

Where  next?  Kitty  looked  up  and  down  the  street. 
One  way  was  Cheeseman's,  where  one  of  her  oldest 
friends  would  be  looking  for  her,  she  knew :  Mr. 
Cheeseman's,  and  the  Twinnies:  on  the  other — "Oh, 
I  must  see  Miss  Egeria  and  Mr.  Bygood  before  any 
one  else!"  said  Kitty,  and  turned  back  toward  the 
Mallow  House. 

At  Bygoods',  she  found  the  same  air  of  happy  ex- 
pectation. Miss  Egeria  had  been  fluttering  to  the  door 
every  five  minutes  all  the  morning,  looking  up  and 
down  the  street ;  now  she  came  fluttering  to  meet  Kitty, 
and  folded  her  in  a  tender  embrace,  and  wept  over  her. 
Mrs.  Ross  had  been  Miss  Egeria's  goddess,  and  for 
her  sake,  Kitty  seemed  to  the  dear  lady  only  half  mor- 
tal. She  uttered  little  soft  moans  in  which  "Heaven," 
"saint,"  "crown  of  glory,"  and  the  like  could  be  dis- 
tinguished. It  was  Kitty  who  comforted  her  with 

62 


The  Neighbors 


soothing  words  and  affectionate  pats,  and  soon  Miss 
Egeria  collected  herself  and  dried  her  eyes. 

"Forgive  me,  dear  child !"  she  said.  "I  am  so  glad, 
Kitty,  so  happy  to  see  you!  Sister  is  in  back  with 
Father;  come  right  in,  won't  you  dear?  They  are 
so  eager " 

Here  was  Miss  Almeria  herself,  stately  and  hand- 
some, parting  the  curtains  with  a  welcoming  gesture : 
here  was  Mr.  Bygood  leaning  forward  in  his  armchair, 
his  mild  eyes  shining,  his  lips  trembling  with  eager- 
ness. Such  a  welcome  here,  too,  as  never  could  be 
anywhere  else  except  in  dear  Cyrus. 

"Mr.  Bygood,  you  have  been  growing  younger!" 
Kitty  spoke  with  decision.  "I  believe  you  have  found 
the  Fountain  of  Youth.  I  think  you  might  give  me  a 
drop!" 

"No,  no,  my  dear!"  Mr.  Bygood  quavered  in  high 
delight.  "An  old  hulk,  Kitty,  left  high  and  dry,  high 
and  dry. 

"I  came  there  again  when  the  day  was  declining, 
The  bark  was  still  there,  but  the  waters  were  gone. 

You  remember  the  song,  my  dear?" 

"Indeed  I  do,  Mr.  Bygood.  You  are  going  to  sing 
it  to  me  the  very  first  I  come  to  tea.  When  may  I 
come  to  tea,  Miss  Almegeria?"  This  was  her  child 
name  for  the  two  sisters.  "I  want  Banbury  cakes, 
please,  and  apple  sauce  with  whipped  cream." 

"And  fried  oysters!"  Miss  Almeria  beamed;  Miss 
Egeria  cooed,  "You  shall  come  to-night,  if  you  will, 
Kitty.  To-night  and — presently !"  Miss  Almeria  cast 

63 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


a  warning  look  at  her  sister,  on  whose  lips  something 
seemed  to  be  trembling.  "Presently,  Sister !  Father's 
turn  now;  ours  can  wait!" 

"I  have  brought  you  a  little  present,  Mr.  Bygood !" 
Kitty  was  pulling  something  from  her  pocket;  a  lit- 
tle parcel,  white  tissue  paper  neatly  tied  with  blue 
ribbon.  The  old  gentleman  opened  it  with  trembling 
fingers.  Only  a  bit  of  Derbyshire  spar,  Kitty  ex- 
plained, for  the  Collection;  but  he  exclaimed  delight- 
edly at  sight  of  the  pretty  thing,  a  golden  egg  darting 
rays  as  the  sunlight  struck  it;  surely,  the  Phoenix's 
egg.  or  as  near  it  as  mortal  eyes  may  hope  to  see. 
Kitty  was  thanked,  blessed,  questioned,  thanked  again. 
Then  she  begged  for  a  sight  of  Goody  Twoshoes,  and 
got  it,  and  Marmaduke  Multiply,  too,  because  poor 
Tom  had  been  so  fond  of  it.  Yes,  poor  Tom!  No- 
body heard  from  him,  which  was  very  sad.  If  he  had 
only  stayed  in  Cyrus,  Mr.  Bygood  said,  it  would  have 
been  so  much  better:  so  much  better!  The  old  gen- 
tleman sighed,  and  shook  his  white  head,  fumbling 
meantime  in  his  pockets  for  peppermint  drops. 

"You  know,"  Miss  Egeria  whispered  to  Kitty, 
"Father  offered  Thomas  a  position  in  the  store !"  Her 
tone  implied  affairs  of  Rothschildic  scope.  "It  would 
have  been  such  an  opportunity  for  Thomas !" 

"Hush,  sister!"  Miss  Almeria  spoke  with  some  se- 
verity. "Thomas  had  his  own  views;  I  am  told  he 
considered  Cyrus  slow !  It  is  true  I  did  not  hear  him 
say  it !"  she  added  more  gently. 

"Believe  half  that  you  see  and  nothing  that  you 

64 


The  Neighbors 

hear!"  murmured  Mr.  Bygood  gently.  "Tom  was  a 
dear  boy,  Almeria !" 

"Yes,  Father  dear!  You  set  me  right,  as  ever!" 
Miss  Almeria  patted  his  shoulder  affectionately.  "We 
must  not  judge!" 

"Almy  is  impulsive!"  Mr.  Bygood  smiled  to  Kitty. 
"Youth  is  apt  to  be.  Do  you  find  Cyrus  changed,  my 
dear?" 

Presently  he  nodded,  and  on  a  sign  from  the  ladies, 
Kitty  stole  into  the  front  shop  with  them.  Here  they 
unfolded  their  great  plan,  which  was  just  like  all  the 
rest.  Kitty  was  to  come  and  live  with  them:  to  be 
their — their  younger  sister,  as  it  were.  They  had  a 
little  room — the  blue  room !  Kitty  remembered  ?  She 
used  to  like  it.  It  was  never  used,  and  it  would  be 
such  a  happiness  to  them !  She  could  help  in  the  store 
— it  was  so  interesting,  Kitty,  and  truly  educational, 
with  the  Library  and  all. 

"The  gentlemen  come  in,  too,  for  their  morning 
paper,  my  dear,  and  discuss  affairs  of  National  Im- 
portance !  I  assure  you,  we  feel  that  we  have  great 
opportunities,  and  I  trust  we  are  not  ungrateful  for 
them.  Our  gentlemen  have  such  sound  opinions! 
When  I  hear  Judge  Peters  and  Mr.  Jordano  exchange 
their  views  on  public  affairs,  and  dear  Father  adds  his 
word  of  ripe  experience,  you  know,  Kitty,  my  dear, 
I  feel  that  we  are  privileged,  indeed!" 

Thus  Miss  Almeria,  bending  her  stately  head  in  em- 
phasis. 

"So  you  will  come,  Kitty  darling,  won't  you?" 
begged  Miss  Egeria;  "at  least  think  it  over  well;  we 

65 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


feel  that  we  have  as  much  claim  as  any  of  the  friends, 
and — perhaps — I    cannot   help    feeling,   my   love,   as 

if  our  dear  departed  Saint  might  have  wished " 

"But!"  cried  Kitty,  again,  as  after  promising  grate- 
fully to  think  it  over,  she  took  her  way  to  Cheeseman's, 
"the  dear,  kind,  darling  things!  Nobody  seems  to 
realize  that  I  have  come  home,  to  my  own  house !" 


CHAPTER  VI 

JOHANNA  EX  MACHINA 

KITTY  had  her  dinner  alone,  for  Nelly  Chanter's 
school  was  at  some  distance. 

"Besides,"  said  Sarepta,  "I  only  asked  her  to 
come  for  breakfast  and  supper  and  nights.  You'd 
want  some  time  to  yourself,  I  told  her." 

Sarepta  stood  in  the  doorway,  her  hands  folded  in 
her  apron,  while  Kitty  ate  her  excellent  little  dinner 
soberly  and  thoughtfully.  She  had  no  idea  of  slight- 
ing Sarepta's  cookery;  she  had  a  good  appetite,  and 
even  if  she  hadn't,  there  must  be  no  hurting  of  feel- 
ings. 

"Sarepta!" 

"Well!" 

"The  pudding  is  delicious,  Sarepta !  And — they  all 
want  me  to  come  and  live  with  them !" 

"H'm!"  Sarepta's  sniff  was  eloquent.  Kitty  went 
on,  crumbling  her  bread  thoughtfully: 

"Madam  Flynt,  Judge  Peters,  the  Miss  Bygoods, 
the  Chanters " 

She  smiled,  still  hearing  the  affectionate  shouts  and 
shrieks  of  that  friendly  circle,  still  seeing  the  dining- 
room  where  she  had  found  them  all,  Mrs.  Chanter 
ladling  out  chowder,  beaming  on  her  clamorous  brood, 

67 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


Mr.  Chanter  with  half  an  eye  on  his  plate,  and  one 
and  a  half  on  the  dog's-eared  Thucydides  beside  him. 
How  affectionate  they  were;  what  good  friends! 
"And  Mr.  Mallow  wants  me  to  keep  house  for  him, 
Sarepta;  think  of  it!  Why,  he  has  always  said  he 
wouldn't  have  any  woman  gormineering  over  him; 
ever  since  I  can  remember  he  has  said  that.  And  now 
he  thinks  he  would  be  as  comfortable  as  old  Tilley  if 
I  would  come  and  be  his  lady  housekeeper !  Who  was 
old  Tilley,  Sarepta?" 

"Some  other  old  fool,  I  expect!"  Sarepta  was  very 
grim.  "If  you  asked  me,  I  should  say  Marsh  Mal- 
low was  a  little  wantin'.  The  idea !" 

"The  funny  thing  is,  none  of  them  seems  to  realize 
that  I  have  a  home  of  my  own!  Isn't  it  funny, 
Sarepta  ?  So  dear  and  kind,  every  one  of  them — why, 
I  am  so  full  of  gratefulness  I  couldn't  hold  any  more ! 
— but  how  can  they  think  I  would  leave  my  own  dear 
darling  home  ?" 

Sarepta  Darwin  >.rew  a  long  breath,  and  blinked 
fiercely.  If  it  had  been  any  one  but  Sarepta,  one  would 
have  said  there  were  tears  in  those  pale  blue  eyes,  but 
of  course  Sarepta  never  shed  tears. 

"Then  you  calc'late  to  stay  on  here!"  she  spoke 
dryly,  but  there  was  something  in  her  tone  that  made 
Kitty  look  up  quickly. 

"Why,  Sarepta,  of  course  I  do!  What  else  should 
I  do !  Don't  be  a  goose,  Sarepta  dear !" 

She  got  up  and  gave  Sarepta  a  little  hug :  she  might 
as  well  have  hugged  the  door  for  all  outward  response, 
but  that  did  not  matter. 

68 


Johanna  Ex  Machina 


"Who — what  is  that,  Sarepta?"  she  demanded,  as 
a  figure  came  up  the  path.  "It  looks  like  a  postman !" 

"Is!  we've  had  d'liv'ry  for  a  year  past!" 

There  was  exultation  in  Sarepta's  voice.  Next  to 
the  well-being  of  Ross  House  and  its  inmates,  she 
lived  for  the  greater  glory  of  Cyrus. 

"Why,  it's  Bingo!" 

Kitty  was  at  the  front  door  in  a  flash,  greeting  a 
highly  embarrassed  youth  in  gray  uniform.  "Bingo, 
how  do  you  do?  To  think  of  your  being  postman! 
How  splendid!" 

"Pleased  to  see  you!"  muttered  Adolphus  Evander 
Byng,  who  had  never  had  any  benefit  of  his  fine  name, 
but  was  called  Addy  Evy  for  long  and  Bingo  for  short, 
as  Tom  used  to  say.  "Hope  I  see  you  well.  Letter 
for  you !  Goo'day !" 

Thus  Bingo,  hurling  himself  away  from  the  door, 
as  if  he  had  not  been  looking  forward  all  day  to  this 
moment;  as  if  he  had  not  solemnly  promised  his  Aunt 
Miny,  who  "dressmade"  as  we  say  in  Cyrus,  to  notice 
every  single  thing  Kitty  Ross  had  on,  coming  straight 
from  Paris  that  way.  There  was  a  painful  scene  that 
evening  at  the  Byng  cottage.  Gray  dress?  Well, 
what  kind  of  a  gray  dress?  Was  it  silk,  or  wool,  or 
melange?  Did  it  do  up  behind?  Was  it  made  D'rec- 
tory?  Was  there  gores  in  the  skirt?  Here  Addy  Evy 
fled  to  the  barn,  and  his  Aunt  Miny  did  think  he  was 
real  mean ;  she  despised  any  one  who  hadn't  eyes  in  his 
head,  be  he  man  or  woman :  there ! 

Kitty  came  back  with  her  letter,  turning  it  over,  as 

69 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


people  do,  before  opening  it.  A  large  square  envelope, 
superscribed  in  a  stiff,  official-looking  hand. 

"From  Aunt  Johanna !"  she  said.  "It  is  surely  her 
hand.  I  wonder " 

She  opened  the  letter;  read  it;  looked  up  with  a 
dazed  expression  at  Sarepta,  who  was  lingering  by  the 
door  with  an  air  of  elaborate  detachment. 

"Why,  Sarepta !  why- 

"Well"  Sarepta's  tone  was  incisive,  to  say  the  least. 

"It  has  been  delayed !"  Kitty  looked  at  the  envelope. 
"Missent  to  'Cyrene'!  I  should  think  so.  Why, 
Sarepta,  this  was  written  a  week  ago!  She's  coming 
to-day!" 

"Who's  comin'  ?    Not  Johanna  Ross  ?" 

"Yes !"  Kitty  rose  in  agitation  and  began  instinctive- 
ly straightening  everything  in  the  room. 

"You  no  need  to  do  that!"  Sarepta  spoke  grimly, 
with  looks  to  match.  "I  went  to  school  with  Johanna 
Ross.  She  comin'  to-day,  you  say?  How  long  she 
goin'  to  stay?" 

"She  says — I'll  read  it  to  you. 

"My  DEAR  KITTY, 

"I  am  retiring  from  business  and  should  like  to  make  you 
a  visit  if  agreeable.  Ask  Sarepta  to  find  a  young  girl  to  take 
care  of  me.  Unless  otherwise  advised,  expect  me  at  2.30 
Saturday  P.  M. 

"Affectionately  yours, 

"JOHANNA  Ross." 

"Sarepta,  it's  two  o'clock  now!     What  room  shall 

we  put  her  in?    I  can't  think " 

70 


Johanna  Ex  Machina 


Kitty's  voice  was  trembling,  her  cheeks  flushed. 
Seeing  this,  Sarepta  assumed  her  dryest  manner  and 
tone. 

"Put  her  in  the  Red  Injun  room.  It's  all  ready:  I 
cleaned  it  last  week." 

"Of  course!"  Kitty's  brow  lightened.  "Clever 
Sarepta !  The  Red  Indian  room  will  be  just  the  thing. 
Let's  come  up  and  look  at  it !  Of  course  it's  all  right, 
but  actually  I  haven't  been  in  it.  Why,  I  haven't 
been  here  two  days,  Sarepta !" 

Her  voice  quivered  again,  but  she  mastered  it,  and 
hurried  upstairs  with  Sarepta  close  behind  her. 

"I  wouldn't  let  Johanna  Ross  put  me  out,"  Sarepta 
remarked,  apparently  addressing  the  stair-rail,  "not  for 
one  quarter  of  a  second." 

Kitty  made  no  reply.  Sarepta,  who  certainly  was 
"no  canny,"  Kitty  often  thought,  appeared  to  read  her 
thought  through  the  back  of  her  head. 

"But  you  needn't  be  scared,"  she  went  on.  "  I  know 
my  place.  I'm  just  freein'  my  mind,  so  to  speak.  I 
went  to  school  with  Johanna,  and  I  know  her  like  a 
book.  She's  a  fine  woman  in  spots,  and  she's  Doctor's 
sister.  I  know  my  place,  and  she  knows  hers ;  you  no 
need  to  be  scared." 

Kitty  turned  and  flashed  such  a  look  of  mingled  re- 
lief and  thankfulness  that  Sarepta  almost  stumbled. 

"Go  on  up !"  she  said  austerely. 

Before  ever  I  saw  the  Red  Indian  room,  I  used 
to  think — hearing  it  casually  mentioned  by  Kitty  or 
Tom — it  was  in  some  way  connected  with  the  North 
American  Indians.  I  used  to  wonder  about  it :  whether 

71 


it  were  shaped  and  furnished  like  a  wigwam ;  whether 
Indians  had  ever  lived  in  it;  whether — dreadful 
thought,  born  of  too-early  reading  of  Parkman's  his- 
tories— there  had  been  a  Massacre  there !  I  remember 
that  when  Kitty  proposed  a  visit  to  it  one  day,  as  being 
the  most  convenient  way  of  attaining  the  barn  roof,  I 
inwardly  shrank  and  cowered,  dreading  what  might 
meet  my  eyes.  The  relief  of  the  first  glance  is  still 
with  me. 

Dr.  Ross's  grandfather  had  been  a  sea-captain,  and 
had  brought  home  from  China  a  wonderful  toilet  set 
of  Red  India  china.  There  it  was,  still  perfect,  not 
so  much  as  a  cover  broken ;  there  it  is  to-day,  I  trust. 
The  room  had  been  furnished  to  match  the  set,  with 
hangings  and  cushions,  bedspread,  etcetera,  of  Eastern 
cotton,  almost  the  exact  shade  of  warm  dull  red;  the 
chairs  were  lacquered  in  the  same  tint.  An  enchant- 
ing room!  And  its  possibilities!  Not  only  did  one 
of  its  windows  give  access  to  the  barn  roof,  but  the 
little  red-lacquered  door  beside  the  fireplace  opened 
upon  the  Secret  Staircase,  the  pride  of  Kitty's  heart, 
the  envy  of  every  other  child  in  Cyrus.  A  little  wind- 
ing, breakneck  stair,  burrowing  down  in  the  thickness 
of  the  chimney  casing.  You  could  come  out  in  the  sit- 
ting-room if  you  wished,  but  we  never  did;  the  stair- 
case burrowed  still  further  downward,  and  the  cellar 
was  far  more  exciting. 

"'Twill  suit  with  Johanna's  looks!"  said  Sarepta, 
after  a  critical  survey  of  the  room.  "Come  to  think 
of  it,  I  believe  she  had  this  room  when  she  was  a 
gal.  It'll  be  real  handy  for  her,  bathroom  and  all  to 

72 


Johanna  Ex  Machina 


herself,  and  no  need  to  bother  you.  Yes,  I  expect 
she'll  like  it.  Hark!" 

The  sound  of  wheels.  Kitty  fled  down  the  stairs, 
Sarepta  scuttling  behind  her  as  fast  as  dignity  allowed, 
and  threw  open  the  front  door. 

"Aunt  Johanna !  Come  in !  come  in !  How  good  of 
you  to  come!" 

"But  you  wish  I  hadn't,  eh?  Never  mind,  Kitty! 
Will  John  Tucker  see  to  my  trunks?  How  are  you, 
Sarepta?" 

Miss  Johanna  Ross  might  be  forty-five,  but  looked 
younger.  A  tall,  fine  figure  of  a  woman,  with  dark 
eyes  and  hair,  the  former  of  a  singularly  piercing 
quality.  Kitty  felt,  she  told  Nelly  Chanter  afterward, 
as  if  at  the  first  glance  her  spinal  marrow  had  been 
investigated.  She  was  handsomely  and  fashionably 
dressed,  and  carried  a  satchel  of  the  latest  mode.  Her 
voice  was  deep-toned,  her  speech  as  incisive  as 
Sarepta's  own,  her  gestures  and  carriage  impressive. 
Such  was  the  lady  who  now  confronted  Kitty  in  the 
sitting  room. 

"You  got  my  letter  last  week?"  she  said.  "Has 
Sarepta  got  a  young  woman  for  me?" 

"No,  Aunt  Johanna.  The  letter  was  missent,  you 
see:  it  only  came  an  hour  ago." 

"Missent?  Inexcusable!  I'll  write  to  the  Post  Of- 
fice Department.  Well!  I  may  as  well  explain  mat- 
ters at  once,  Kitty;  Sarepta,  you'd  better  wait  a  min- 
ute, as  this  concerns  you  also." 

Miss  Ross  sat  down  on  the  leather  sofa,  and  looked 
thoughtfully  from  Kitty  to  Sarepta,  and  back  again. 

73 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


"I  haven't  been  here  for  twenty  years,"  she  said.  "I 
am  actually  glad  I  came!"  She  seemed  surprised  at 
this,  and  pondered  a  moment.  Sarepta  sniffed  slight- 
ly :  Kitty  was  silent,  hardly  knowing  what  to  say. 

"I  have  retired  from  business,"  Miss  Ross  went  on 
in  a  clear,  explanatory  voice,  "because  I  am  tired.  I 
intend  to  take  to  my  bed — What  is  it?"  She  paused: 
Kitty  had  uttered  a  cry  of  surprise. 

"Nothing,  Aunt  Johanna.  Did  I  understand — are 
you  ill,  Aunt  Johanna  ?" 

"Not  in  the  least.  I  have  never  been  ill  in  my  life, 
except  for  measles  at  the  age  of  five.  I  tell  you  I  am 
tired,  and  I  intend  to  take  to  my  bed.  For  twenty 
years,"  Miss  Ross  went  on,  still  more  explanatorily, 
"I  have  been  Rug  and  Tapestry  Expert  for  Kostly  and 
Richmore:"  she  named  one  of  the  great  houses  of 
New  York.  "During  these  twenty  years  I  have  been 
on  my  feet  all  day,  and  often  half  the  night.  I  have 
now  retired — on  a  competence — and,  as  I  said  before, 
I  intend  to  take  to  my  bed.  I  am  used  to  wholesale 
ways,"  she  added  with  a  smile.  "I  have  worked  in 
a  wholesale  way;  now  I  mean  to  rest  in  a  wholesale 
way.  Have  you  found  me  a  maid,  Sarepta?" 

"Land  sakes!"  cried  Sarepta,  throwing  her  hands 
out  in  indignant  protest.  "Why,  it  ain't  an  hour  since 
we  heard  you  was  coming!" 

"True!"  Miss  Ross  paused  and  considered.  "Well! 
I  suppose  you  can  find  me  one?" 

"I  dunno  as  I  can,  and  I  dunno  as  I  can!"  replied 
Sarepta  cautiously.  "What  do  you  want  of  her,  Miss 
Ross?" 

74 


Johanna  Ex  Machina 


Miss  Ross  laughed  outright,  a  merry  laugh  which 
somehow  transformed  her  rather  sharp  face. 

"To  take  care  of  me,  Miss  Darwin!  You  don't 
suppose  I  expected  you  to  take  care  of  me,  do  you? 
Find  me  a  young  girl,  whom  I  can  order  about,  and 
send  on  errands  and  bully,  and  throw  things  at.  I 
couldn't  throw  the  bolster  at  you,  Miss  Darwin !" 

"You  might  try!"  Sarepta  replied  with  a  grim 
chuckle,  and  a  distinct  softening  of  the  frosty  manner 
which  had  been  upon  her  ever  since  the  visitor  entered. 
She  looked  at  Kitty.  "Jenny  Tucker  might  do!"  she 
said  doubtfully.  "She's  sixteen,  and  takes  after  her 
father  more  than  the  rest." 

"Jenny!  That's  a  good  name  to  call,"  Miss  Ross 
nodded  approvingly.  "John  Tucker's  daughter,  is 
she?  That's  good,  too.  John  and  I  were  always 
friends.  Is  she  pretty?" 

"Pretty  enough,  I  guess." 

"Then  send  for  her,  will  you?  I  won't  go  to  bed 
now,  Kitty.  You  shall  come  and  help  me  unpack,  and 
we'll  have  supper  together — if  Miss  Darwin  ap- 
proves—  "  she  threw  a  quizzical  glance  at  Sarepta, 
who  gave  a  snort  and  vanished — "and  a  cosy  evening 
by  the  fire.  You  shall  tell  me  everything  you  like, 
my  dear,  and  nothing  you  don't  like,  and  at  ten  o'clock 
I  shall  go  to  bed  and  stay  there." 

"Aunt  Johanna " 

"Yes,  my  dear!  How  delightful  this  room  is!  What 
is  it,  Kitty?" 

"Do  you  mean — do  you  think  of  taking  a  long  rest, 
or  only  a  few  days?" 

75 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


"One  year!"  said  Miss  Ross  crisply.  Kitty  gasped. 
"That  is,  if  I  find  it  suits  me.  Six  months  anyhow, 
to  give  it  a  full  trial.  That  seems  sensible,  eh  ?"  She 
looked  up  sharply.  "Eh?"  she  repeated. 

"Oh,  I — suppose  so!"  stammered  Kitty.  "Only — 
it  seems  a  very  long  time,  Aunt  Johanna.  You  see, 
I  have  never  been  ill." 

"Nor  tired !"  Miss  Ross  spoke  in  short,  sharp  jerks, 
throwing  up  her  chin  with  each  remark.  "You  think 
you  have  been  tired,  but  you  haven't.  I  tell  you,  the 
marrow  is  withered  in  my  bones.  You  say  I  don't 
look  it,  and  I  don't;  every  one  says  so.  Last  month, 
one  of  our  partners  asked  me  to  open  a  branch  in 
Nijninovgorod ;  said  I  looked  strong  enough  for  that 
or  anything.  Last  week,"  this  astonishing  lady  went 
on,  "another  of  'em  asked  me  to  marry  him,  because  I 
looked  as  if  I  could  take  good  care  of  him.  That  set- 
tled it!  Til  take  to  my  bed!'  says  I;  and  here  I  am. 
Well !  that's  enough  about  me.  Now  about  you !  Poor 
little  White  Rose  couldn't  stay  any  longer,  could  she? 
No!  not  to  be  expected.  She  couldn't  live  without 
John;  she  had  merged  her  existence  in  his,  you  see. 
You  did  all  you  could,  and  the  look  you  have  of  John 
probably  kept  her  alive  till  now;  but  it  couldn't  last. 
No!  So  here  you  are,  with  Sarepta  and  John  Tucker 
— and  me!"  she  added  with  a  sharp,  quizzical  glance. 
"What  are  your  ideas?  What  are  your  plans?  Is 
there  any  money  left?" 

Kitty  told  her  quietly  what  there  was:  told,  too,  of 
Sarepta's  and  John  Tucker's  earnings  and  of  the  pro- 
posed partnership  with  the  latter.  She  found  it  sin- 

76 


Johanna  Ex  Machina 


gularly  easy  to  talk  to  this  relative  whom  she  had 
hitherto  known  so  slightly  and  seen  so  seldom.  Miss 
Ross  sat  bolt  upright  on  the  sofa,  listening  intently, 
nodding  emphatic  approval  from  time  to  time. 

"Excellent!"  she  said,  when  Kitty  had  finished  her 
story.  "Admirable !  With  my  board  money  and  your 
earnings,  you  ought  to  be  able  to  lay  by,  my  dear." 

"Oh,  Aunt  Johanna!"  Kitty  lifted  a  shocked  face. 
"I  couldn't — you  mustn't  think  of  such  a  thing.  Why, 
this  is  your  own  home,  where  you  were  born!  Why 
should  you  pay  board  here?" 

"Little  goose,  why  do  you  suppose  I  came  here? 
Why  didn't  I  go  to  a  Rest  Cure?  'Because,'  I  said, 
'why  pay  good  money  to  strangers  and  harpies  when 
I  can  pay  it  to  my  own  lawful  niece  in  my  own — not 
precisely  lawful,  because  it  belongs  to  her — but  my 
natural  home?'  Enough  about  that.  Besides,  there 
was  another  reason.  I  wanted  to  do  what  I  wanted, 
Kitty!  For  twenty  years  I  have  lived  in  a  mold, 
worked  in  a  mold,  spoken  in  a  mold,  smiled  in  a 
mold.  Now  the  mold  is  broken.  I  want  to  be  able, 
if  I  feel  like  it,  to  fling  open  all  the  windows  in  this 
house — there  are  forty  of  them,  I  believe — and  scream 
out  of  each  one.  Can  you  understand  that  ?" 

"Perfectly!"  cried  Kitty  kindling. 

"Exactly!  You  are  a  Ross,  I  see.  Well!  I  shall 
not  be  likely  to  do  that,  because  I  shall  be  in  my  bed ; 
but  if  I  did,  or  whatever  I  might  do,  the  neighbors 
would  just  say,  'Johanna!  always  peculiar!'  and  there 
would  be  an  end  of  it." 

77 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


"Aunt  Johanna!"  Kitty  came  and  sat  down  by  her 
aunt.  "Do  you  know  what  I  think?" 

"No,  my  dear,  unless  you  think  I  am  mad.  I'm  not, 
only  a  bit  cracked,  like  most  people." 

"I  think  you  are  a  dear !  I  think — I  should  like  to 
give  you  a  hug !" 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  Kitty  threw  her  arms 
round  her  aunt,  who  returned  the  embrace  heartily. 

"Good  little  girl!"  she  said,  and  her  clear  emphatic 
voice  was  rather  husky.  "Nice  little  girl!  We  shall 
get  on  famously  together." 

"And — "  Kitty's  eyes  were  opening  very  wide,  as 
they  always  did  when  a  new  idea  dawned  upon  her. 
"Why,  Aunt  Johanna,  you  are  just  like  all  the  rest, 
only  reversed." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Kitty?  Speak  English, 
child!" 

"Why,  every  one  in  the  village,  all  the  dear  friends 
and  neighbors,  want  me  to  come  and  live  with  them. 
Madam  Flynt,  Judge  Peters,  Miss  Bygoods,  the  Chan- 
ters— and  Mr.  Mallow" — Kitty  broke  into  a  little 
crow  of  laughter — "wants  me  to  be  his  housekeeper 
and  matron!  Well!  and  now  you  come,  with  the 
same  dear  wish  to  help  me,  at  the  other  end.  And, 
oh!"  Kitty,  jumping  up,  clapped  her  hands  and  actu- 
ally began  to  dance,  "Don't  you  see,  Aunt  Johanna, 
here  is  my  answer  to  them  all.  They  were  all  so  kind, 
and  so  urgent,  I  didn't  know  what  to  say  to  them, 
though  of  course  nothing  would  have  induced  me  to 
leave  my  dear  darling  home.  But  now,  don't  you  see, 

I  can't  go  to  any  of  them,  because  of " 

78 


Johanna  Ex  Machlna 


"Because  of  bedridden  aunt!  Precisely.  Johanna 
ex  machina.  I  learned  my  Latin  of  Mr.  Bygood,  my 
dear;  he  taught  at  the  Academy  when  I  was  a  girl. 
Well !  so  that  is  all  settled.  They  all  wanted  my  little 
niece,  eh  ?  And  I've  stolen  a  march  on  'em.  Ha !  ha ! 
and  now,  Kitty,  I  should  like  to  see  my  room  and  un- 
pack a  bit.  I  thought  possibly,  my  dear,  you  might 
spare  me  the  Red  Indian  room,  which  used  to  be  mine, 
but  I  can  sleep  anywhere." 

"It  is  all  ready  for  you!"  cried  Kitty  joyously. 
"Oh,  Aunt  Johanna,  you  are  a  dear,  and  you  really 
belong,  and  I  am  so  happy!" 

The  last  band  snapped  from  Kitty's  heart,  and  she 
led  the  way  joyously  upstairs. 


CHAPTER  VII 

A   SYMPOSIUM 

IT  was  Wednesday,  Ladies'  Night  at  the  Mallow 
House.  For  many  years,  Mrs.  Wibird  and  Me- 
lissa, and  the  Misses  Bygood  had  supped  with 
Mr.  Mallow  on  Wednesday  evening.  It  was  the 
"help's"  evening  out,  and  the  boarders  understood  that 
they  must  sup  elsewhere  that  night.  Mr.  Mallow  in- 
variably cooked  the  supper,  the  Wibirds  assisting, 
Mrs.  Wibird  and  Melissa  eagerly,  Wilson  grudgingly. 
After  the  delightful  little  meal,  always  perfectly 
cooked  and  served,  Mr.  Mallow  would  take  off  his 
coat,  roll  up  his  immaculate  shirtsleeves,  and  wash 
the  dishes,  the  ladies  wiping  them  daintily.  Other 
neighbors  would  often  drop  in  after  supper;  it  was  a 
pleasant  and  friendly  occasion. 

Supper  was  over  now,  the  dishes  washed  and  put 
away,  and  the  company  gathered  in  Mr.  Mallow's  sit- 
ting room,  a  cheerful  apartment,  with  a  general  aspect 
of  chenille  and  "tidies,"  further  brightened  by  a  crack- 
ling wood  fire  on  the  hearth.  They  were  hemming 
what  Mr.  Mallow  called  "wipers,"  more  generally 
known  as  dish  or  glass  towels.  Mr.  Mallow  sat  in 
the  middle,  a  large  basket  balanced  on  his  knees.  He 
sewed  slowly  and  carefully,  using  a  long  thread,  which 

80 


A  Symposium 

Melissa  threaded  for  him,  as  he  was  wont  to  explain 
that  "he  was  no  camel,  and  could  not  go  through  a 
needle's  eye."  This  was  a  wonderful  joke,  and  never 
failed  to  send  a  ripple  of  genteel  mirth  through  the 
assembled  ladies.  Mrs.  Wibird  and  Melissa  worked 
with  bird-like,  darting  motions,  swift  but  irregular, 
dropping  their  work  whenever  they  spoke,  which  was 
very  often.  The  Misses  Bygood  worked  even  more 
swiftly,  and  with  perfect  steadiness  and  grace. 

"This  is  an  elegant  piece  of  goods,  Marsh!"  said 
Mrs.  Wibird.  "Better  than  the  last,  'pears  to  me." 

"So  fine  and  smooth!"  Miss  Egeria  cooed  softly. 
"It  is  a  pleasure  to  work  on  it,  Mr.  Mallow." 

"  'Tis  good  goods !"  Mr.  Mallow  assented.  "Pure 
linen,  not  a  fibre  of  cotton  in  it.  I  have  to  have  my 
wipers  good.  Some  things  you  can  squinch  on,  others 
you  can't;  I  am  thrifty,  but  I  do  have  to  have  my 
wipers  good.  And  plenty!"  he  added.  "A  moisty 
wiper  gives  me  the  creeps,  it  so  does.  There !  I  should 
like  to  have  a  clean  one  for  every  dish." 

A  gentle  murmur  arose,  as  of  highly  commending 
bees. 

"Such  a  profusion !"  said  Miss  Almeria. 

"So  agreeable,"  chimed  in  Miss  Egeria,  "to  be  able 
always  to  use  a  dry  one.  I  assure  you  we  greatly 
appreciate  it,  Mr.  Mallow." 

Mr.  Mallow  beamed  and  made  a  little  bow  over  his 
"wiper,"  thereby  pricking  his  finger:  a  crimson  drop 
appeared  and  fell  on  the  shining  linen.  Then  what  a 
commotion!  Melissa  flew  for  water  and  a  "cot" 
Mrs.  Wibird,  who  could  not  bear  the  sight  of  blood, 

81 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


prepared  to  faint,  but  thought  better  of  it,  the  first  red 
drop  being  also  the  last.  Miss  Almeria  and  Miss 
Egeria  murmured  sympathy,  and  proffered  their  own 
fine  handkerchiefs.  Mr.  Mallow,  with  manly  stoi- 
cism, declared  that  it  was  "Nothin'  at  all !  nothin'  at  all ! 
Gives  a  chance  to  show  that  my  blood  is  good  and  red. 
None  of  these  white  corp'scles  they  talk  about  nowa- 
days." 

"I've  heard  of  them !"  said  Mrs.  Wibird.  "Some- 
thing to  do  with  corpses,  are  they?" 

"I  presume  likely!"  Mr.  Mallow  replied,  with  re- 
serve. "Ahem!  not  a  subject  for  ladies,  perhaps. 
Sorry  I  mentioned  'em." 

"Have  you  seen  our  dear  Kitty  to-day,  Mr.  Mal- 
low?" asked  Miss  Almeria,  tactfully,  seeing  his  brow 
clouded.  He  had  a  great  deal  of  delicacy,  Mr.  Mal- 
low; all  Cyrus  gentlemen  had,  she  thought  gratefully. 

"Yes,  'm!  yes,  I  have  seen  her.  I  hoped — I  asked 
Kitty  to  join  us  this  evening,  but  she  was  degaged. 
How  are  you,  Very?  Come  in!  come  in!  Take  a 
seat !  Glad  to  see  you !" 

Mr.  Jordano  entered,  bowing  right  and  left  with 
his  best  Italian  air. 

"Grazier,  Marshall!"  he  replied  urbanely.  "Grazier, 
I'm  sure!  Good-evening,  ladies !  Miss  Bygood — Miss 
Egeria — Mrs.  Wibird — Miss  Melissa" — a  separate 
bow  for  each  lady,  but  Miss  Almeria's  was  the  lowest 
— "your  humble  servant !" 

"We're  having  us  a  sewing-bee!"  Mr.  Mallow  an- 
nounced, beaming  over  his  basket.  "I  don't  know 

82 


A  Symposium 

as  you'd  care  to  join  us,  Very.  I  never  saw  you  handle 
a  needle.  I've  just  wownded  myself,  long  as  I've  ben 
at  it." 

"Oh,  grazier!  grazier!"  fluttered  Mr.  Jordano. 
(This  word  was  a  new  acquisition;  the  good  gentle- 
man could  not  resist  flourishing  it  as  if  it  were  a  spe- 
cially fine  and  clean  pocket  handkerchief.  If  you  had 
asked  its  meaning,  he  would  have  explained  kindly 
that  it  was  the  Italian  word  for  "thanks!")  "I  fear  I 
should  make  but  a  poor  hand  at  needlework,  Mar- 
shall. A — a  most  graceful  and  feminine  accomplish- 
ment," he  bowed  round  the  circle  of  ladies,  "and  one 
I  always  watch  with  delight-tite-tite :  but  I  think  I  will 
remain  a  spectator." 

He  drew  a  chair  into  the  circle,  and  took  out  his 
notebook. 

"Any  items  for  the  Scribe?"  he  asked  blandly. 
"After  the  excitement  of  last  week — I  allude  to  the 
return  of  Miss  Katharine  Ross  to  her  native  heath,  if 
I  may  quote  the  Wizard  of  the  North — the  town  has 
been  unusually  quiet,  and  promised  to  be  equally  so 
to-day-tay-tay ;  but — a — there  was  another  arrival  this 
afternoon." 

"Indeed !"  the  ladies  exclaimed.    "Who " 

"I  am  not  aware !"  Mr.  Jordano  waved  his  notebook 
in  some  agitation.  "I  hoped  to  find  information  here, 
to  tell  the  truth.  A  distang  lady — oh,  very  distang 
indeed — quite  unknown  to  me.  I  failed  in  my  en- 
deavor to  interrogate  John  Tucker ;  his  movements  are 
so  extremely  quick-wick-wick !" 

He  looked  anxiously   from  one   face  to  another; 

83 


the  ladies  returned  his  look  with  another  equally  anx- 
ious. Mr.  Mallow,  however,  nodded  importantly. 

"Yes!"  he  said.  "I  was  just  goin'  to  tell  the  ladies 
when  you  come  in,  Very.  I  had  asked  Kitty  to  join 
us  here  this  evening,  but  she  is  kept  at  home  by  a 
visitor.  Ahem !" 

Mr.  Mallow  was  too  human  not  to  enjoy  prolonging 
the  suspense  a  moment ;  he  was  too  kind  to  prolong  it 
further. 

"Johanna  Ross !"  he  announced  explosively.  "I  was 
surprised !" 

"Johanna  Ross!"  all  the  ladies  cried  out  in  chorus. 

"Well,  I  never  did !"  Mrs.  Wibird  further  elucidated 
the  situation. 

"How  unexpected !"  said  Miss  Almeria  gravely. 

"Yet  not  unnatural,  sister !"  Miss  Egeria  murmured 
gently.  "Kitty's  own  aunt,  you  know !" 

"I  am  fully  aware  of  that,  my  love !"  Miss  Almeria 
bent  her  head  with  dignity.  "Nothing  could  be  more 
natural,  under  ordinary  circumstances;  but  Johanna 
is — peculiar,  I  am  obliged  to  say." 

"I  never  could  get  over  her  not  comin'  to  Doctor's 
funeral !"  Mrs.  Wibird  lamented.  "I  was  brought  up 
with  Johanna,  but  I  never  could  get  over  that.  And 
that  message  she  sent!  They  were  takin'  stock,  and 
John  would  understand.  I  hope  he  did,  for  I'm  sure 
nobody  else  did." 

Mrs.  Wibird  gave  a  shiver  of  reprehension,  and  set 
her  thin  lips.  She  was  a  forlorn  little  lady,  the  oppo- 
site in  every  way  of  her  brother.  Marshall  Mallow 
would  have  looked — and  been — well  nourished  on 

84 


A  Symposium 

bread  and  cheese,  if  he  had  enough  of  it.  Marcia 
Mallow  had  always  looked,  as  Mrs.  Sharpe  expressed 
it,  like  the  thin  end  of  a  pea-pod,  and  the  most  gen- 
erous diet  never  added  a  pound  to  the  ninety-nine  she 
owned  to.  Melissa  had  tried  more  than  once  to  "flesh 
her  up,"  without  success.  But  then,  "they"  said  she 
gave  all  the  nice  things  her  brother  sent  her  to  "that 
Wilson."  Melissa  always  looked  hungry,  too;  even 
to-night,  after  that  excellent  lobster  supper.  Cyrus 
collectively  hoped  that  that  Wilson  would  get  his 
come-uppance  some  day.  Melissa  Wibird  would  be  a 
pretty  girl  if  she  didn't  look  starved. 

"Has  she  come  to  stay,  think?"  asked  Mrs.  Wibird. 
"Did  Kitty  say,  Marsh?  What  did  she  say?" 

"She  just  said  she  was  sorry  she  couldn't  come,  her 
Aunt  Johanna  had  arrived." 

"And  you  didn't  ask  her  whether  she  was  comin' 
to  stay  ?  Now,  Marshall !" 

"A — if  I  may  venture  a  conjecture" — Mr.  Jor- 
dano  waved  his  notebook  with  a  gesture  expressive 
of  deprecatory  delicacy — "the  lady  in  question  would 
appear  to  intend  to  pass  some  time  in  our — shall  I  say 
midst?  Her  trunks — four  of  them — were  of  ample 
size.  I  should  hardly  suppose  that  for  a  brief  so- 
journ  " 

"She's  come  to  stay!"  Mrs.  Wibird  ejaculated  posi- 
tively; the  Misses  Bygood  bent  their  heads  and  mur- 
mured, "she  has  doubtless  come  to  stay !" 

"So  there's  an  end  to  my  fine  projectile!"  said  Mr. 
Mallow,  with  a  sigh.  Then  in  answer  to  inquiring 
looks: 

8: 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


"A  projectile — a  plan  I  had.  I  thought  maybe 
'Kitty  would  come  and  keep  house  for  me;  asked  her, 
in  fact.  She  promised  to  think  it  over ;  but,  of  course, 
there's  an  end  of  it  now." 

"Why,  Marshall!"  Mrs.  Wibird  prepared  to  shed 
tears.  "You  know  Melissa  and  I  would  come  any 
time  to  keep  house  for  you :  you  know  I  have  offered 
to,  over  and  over  again,  but  you  always  said " 

"Never  mind,  mother!"  Melissa  broke  in.  "That 
was  different!  I  understand  entirely,  Uncle  Marsh." 

Mr.  Mallow  had  been  winking  both  eyes  rapidly,  a 
sign  of  embarrassment  with  him.  He  was  very  good 
to  his  sister,  and  really  fond  of  Melissa,  poor  child, 
but — well,  Lissy  understood ! 

"A  singular  coincidence !"  Miss  Egeria  fluttered  into 
the  breach.  "Sister  and  I  had  also  hoped — had  asked 
dear  Kitty  to  make  her  home  with  us,  Mr.  Mallow. 
Of  course  we  had  no  idea " 

"Why,"  cried  Melissa,  "the  Chanters  expected  her 
to  live  with  them,  Zephine  told  me  so  this  very  morn- 
ing. The  boys  are  going  to  move  into  the  barn  cham- 
ber, and  the  girls  into  their  room,  so  Kitty  can  have 
their  room,  the  girls'.  They  spoke  as  if  it  were  all 
settled." 

"Miss  Kitty  is  in  great  demand :  in  great  demand ! 
Grando  demando,  as  we  say  in  Italy.  I  happen  to 
know  for  a  fact  that  Madam  Flynt  had  made  a  similar 
plan  for  Miss  Kitty's  future.  I  had  the  honor  of  call- 
ing upon  that  estimable  lady  this  afternoon,  and  she 
said  quite  confidently  that  she  expected  our  young 
friend  to  take  up  her  abode — in  short,  to  share  her 

86 


A  Symposium 

elegant  mansion  with  her.  Miss  Kitty  had  promised 
to  think  it  over,  but  Madam  Flynt  appeared  to  have  lit- 
tle doubt-tout-tout " 

"I  must  say  I  think  Kitty  has  been  rather  sly !"  said 
Mrs.  Wibird,  compressing  her  thin  lips.  "It's  all  very 
well  to  keep  your  own  counsel,  but  there  is  such  a  thing 
as  being  too  close-mouthed,  to  my  mind !" 

"Oh,  mother!"  protested  Melissa.  "You're  en- 
tirely mistaken!" 

"No  doubt!"  Mrs.  Wibird  folded  her  hands  meek- 
ly. "I  am  usually  mistaken,  I  admit;  still  I  have  my 
opinions,  poor  as  they  are." 

It  was  Miss  Almeria  who  spoke  now,  with  quiet 
dignity.  "I  do  not  understand,  Marcia,  that  Kitty 
has  done  more  in  any  case  than  agree  to  think  over  the 
invitation  received  by  her.  It  seems  to  me  in  every 

way  proper  that  she  should  do  so.  On  the  whole " 

Miss  Almeria  paused,  to  give  weight  to  her  words, 
"on  the  whole,  sadly  as  we  are  disappointed,  my  sister 
and  I  rejoice,  I  am  sure,  that  matters  have  so  ar- 
ranged themselves  that  Kitty  can  remain  in  her  own 
home.  We  have  not  intended  to  be  selfish,  friends  and 
neighbors,  but  we  may  have  been  so  unconsciously. 
Kitty  is  tenderly  attached  to  her  own  home ;  I  for  one 
am  surprised  that  I  did  not  realize  this  more  fully.  It 
seemed — it  would  have  been  such  a  pleasure  to  have 
her " 

"Dear  child!"  murmured  Miss  Egeria.  "It  would 
indeed!  but  you  are  perfectly  right,  sister!" 

"Doubtless  Johanna  realized  this  situation.  I  ap- 
plaud, though  I  deplore  in  certain  aspects,  her  action." 

87 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


All  through  Miss  Almeria's  address,  pronounced 
with  much  dignity,  Mr.  Jordano  had  been  making  lit- 
tle bows  of  admiring  approbation.  When  she  paused, 
he  took  up  the  word  eagerly. 

"Applause  is  doubtless  indicated,  Miss  Almeria.  I 
— a — heartily  agree;  heartily!  A — would  it  be  per- 
missible for  me  to  ask — I  am  not  aware  that  Miss 
Ross  has  visited  Cyrus  during  the  years  of  my  so- 
journ here — "  (Mr.  Jordano  came  from  Tinkham, 
but,  as  every  one  said,  he  was  not  responsible  for  that, 
and  he  came  away  the  very  moment  he  was  grown 
up) — "a — a — in  short,  are  there  any  items  that  you 
would  feel  at  liberty  to  communicate  to  the  Scribe?" 

There  was  a  silence.  Cyrus  loves  to  talk,  but  there 
are  some  subjects  on  which  it  is  reserved.  Johanna 
Ross  is  one  of  them.  All  looked  at  Miss  Almeria,  who 
was  turning  a  hem  with  exquisite  nicety.  She  felt 
the  look  and  responded,  a  slight  flush  rising  to  her 
smooth  cheek. 

"Miss  Ross  is  a  native  of  Cyrus,"  she  said,  "but  has 
not  lived  here  for  many  years.  Twenty,  I  think,  sis- 
ter?" 

"Twenty!"  assented  Miss  Egeria;  there  was  a  gen- 
eral confirmatory  murmur. 

"She  is  a  person  of  marked  abilities,  and  has  always 
felt — I  believe — that  Cyrus  did  not  afford  sufficient 
scope  for  these  abilities.  She  has  occupied  a  responsi- 
ble position  in  a  large  establishment — wholesale — in 
the  city  of  New  York.  This  has  absorbed  all  her  time 
and  energies ;  she  has  not  felt — until  now — that  Cyrus 

88 


A  Symposium 

had  any  claim  upon  them.  May  I  trouble  you  for  the 
eighty  cotton,  Mr.  Mallow  ?" 

"Certingly!  certingly,  Miss  Bygood!"  Mr.  Mallow, 
in  his  haste  to  comply  with  the  request,  upset  his  big 
basket,  and  spools,  tape,  buttons,  flew  in  every  direc- 
tion. How  the  ladies  flew  after  them!  How  grace- 
fully Miss  Egeria  glided  in  pursuit  of  the  big  spool  of 
linen  thread!  how  majestically  Miss  Almeria  bent  to 
capture  the  flood  of  buttons  that  poured  into  her  silken 
lap!  how  Mrs.  Wibird  pounced,  and  Melissa  hopped 
and  fluttered !  As  for  Mr.  Jordano,  he  had  an  encoun- 
ter with  a  skein  of  darning  cotton,  and  entangled  him- 
self with  it  in  a  quite  unbelievable  way,  and  had  to 
be  rescued  by  Miss  Egeria.  It  was  a  most  exciting  in- 
cident; they  spoke  of  it  for  weeks  after.  Mr.  Mal- 
low, meantime,  sat  with  the  overturned  basket  still  on 
his  knees,  grasping  it  tight,  as  if  he  feared  it  would 
follow  the  rest,  and  ejaculating,  "My!  my!  I  am  sur- 
prised !" 

"I  make  my  'pologies!"  he  said  finally,  when  the 
last  button  had  been  restored  to  its  place.  "I  make 
my  'pologies,  ladies !  I  don't  know  as  I  ever  did  such 
a  thing  before.  Quite  a  cat's  trophy,  I'm  sure." 

Flushed  and  breathless  with  agitation  and  vicarious 
exertion,  the  good  gentleman  took  up  his  work  again, 
but  uttered  an  exclamation  of  discomfiture.  "There! 
I've  unthreaded  my  needle.  Ussy,  you  know  what  I 
say ;  I'm  no  dromedary — I  would  say  camel !  Thread 
it  for  me,  will  you,  dearie?" 

While  the  threading  was  in  process,  Miss  Almeria 
was  advising  with  Mr.  Jordano  in  low  tones,  as  to 

89 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


the  precise  wording  of  the  item  which  was  to  reveal 
to  Cyrus  at  large  the  advent  of  Miss  Johanna  Ross. 
He  had  already,  the  evening  before,  submitted  to  her 
his  account  of  Kitty's  arrival,  a  piece  of  writing  of 
which  he  was  modestly  proud.  It  began,  "Flushed 
with  oriflammes  was  the  western  sky,  and  Old  Sol 
still  shed  his  cheering  ray  over  Cyrus  and  en- 
virons  " 

At  this  moment  the  door  flew  open,  and  Mrs.  Sharpe 
appeared,  with  Cissy  close  behind  her.  Well !  they  did 
look  like  an  old  vixen  and  a  young  one,  there  was  no 
doubt  about  it,  though  of  course  Tom  ought  not  to 
have  said  it. 

"Good-evenin',  all!"  Mrs.  Sharpe  was  panting,  as 
if  she  had  hurried.  "I  thought  I'd  make  a  run-in:  I 
calc'lated  I  should  find  you  here,  Almeria  'n'  Egeria. 

I  want  to  know  if  you've  heard "  her  voice  failed 

her,  and  she  sat  down,  fanning  herself  with  the 
"cloud"  she  had  pulled  off  her  head.  "I  hastened  too 
much,"  she  panted.  "I  got  to  get  my  breath !" 

"I  don't  know  as  anybody's  in  a  hurry,  Mis' 
Sharpe!"  Mr.  Mallow's  tone  was  less  cordial  than 
usual.  He  did  not  like  Mrs.  Sharpe,  or  her  "run-ins." 
He  didn't  see,  he  had  confided  to  Miss  Egeria,  why  a 
person  should  have  no  privation  just  because  he 
thought  fit  to  keep  a  hotel.  "It  isn't  as  if  she  was  a 
guest,"  he  said,  "paying  or  invited." 

The  rest  of  the  company  regarded  the  newcomers 
with  mingled  disfavor  and  curiosity. 

"What  is  it,  Cissy?"  Mrs.  Wibird  asked,  the  latter 
sentiment  overcoming  the  former. 

90 


A  Symposium 

"Why,"  began  Cissy,  nothing  loth;  "Miss  Jo- 
hanna  " 

"Now  you  hush  up,  Cissy !"  said  her  mother,  sharp- 
ly. "You  told  over  to  Jebuses,  and  I'm  going  to  tell 
here.  Johanna  Ross  has  come  home !"  she  announced, 
with  an  air  of  dramatic  triumph.  "She  came  this 
afternoon.  I  saw  her  with  these  eyes."  She  indicated 
a  pair — well,  perhaps  not  exactly  a  pair — of  yellowish 
eyes,  decidedly  too  near  together  for  beauty. 

"We  are  aware  of  that!"  replied  Mr.  Mallow  ma- 
jestically. Sitting  with  his  needle  poised  in  air,  his 
knees  rather  wide  apart,  to  support  the  big  basket 
firmly  and  prevent  further  "cat's  trophy,"  he  looked 
like  a  mild  and  rosy  Rhadamanthus  about  to  give  judg- 
ment. 

"Oh,  you  are !    Some  one  got  ahead  of  me !" 

Mrs.  Sharpe  darted  a  suspicious  glance  round  the 
friendly  circle. 

"Well,  do  you  know  what  she  is  up  to  ?  That — that 
stay-away — her  that  Cyrus  isn't  good  enough  for,  that 
wouldn't  attend  her  own  brother's  funeral  because  she 
was  too  stuck-up — do  you  know  what  has  come  to  her 
in  judgment?  She  has  come  back  to  Cyrus  because 
she  was  obliged  to!  she  has  come  back  to  saddle  her- 
self on  her  brother's  child,  that  she  has  neglected  ever 
since  she  was  born ;  she  has  taken  to  her  bed',  and  there 
she  is  to  remain.  Yes,  Mr.  Mallow!  yes,  girls!  Mr. 
Jordano,  you  can  put  it  in  the  paper,  if  you're  a  mind 
to.  Miss  Johanna  Ross,  the  fine  New  York  lady  who 
shook  the  dust  of  Cyrus  off  her  feet,  is  a  bedridden 
invalid!" 

91 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


She  gazed  around  with  eager  triumph,  drinking  in 
the  looks  of  dismay  like  wine. 

"A  bedridden  invalid!"  she  repeated.  "What  do 
you  think  of  that?" 

"Who  told  you  this?"  asked  Marshall  Mallow  ab- 
ruptly. 

"A — precisely!"  chimed  in  Mr.  Jordano,  in  whom 
incredulity  and  good  feeling  were  wrestling  with  the 
journalistic  instinct.  "What  ground,  so  to  speak, 
is  there  for  this  hypothesis-sis-sis?" 

"Mother  heard  her  say  so!"  Cissy  hastened  to  put 
in.  "Now,  Mother,  you  might  let  me  say  a  word! 
She  heard  the  telephone,  and " 

"I  thought  'twas  our  ring!"  cried  Mrs.  Sharpe.  "I 
took  up  the  receiver,  and  a  strange  voice  was  speakin'. 
I  knew  'twas  no  one  in  Cyrus :  I  thought  mebbe  some- 
thin'  was  wrong  and  I  ought  to  notify  the  marshal. 
And  these  words  I  heard:  'No,  Madam  Flynt,  I'm 
sorry,  but  I  can't  come,  because  I  am  taking  to  my 
bed,  there  to  remain.'  And  Madam  Flynt  said,  'Oh, 
Johanna !'  Then  I  knew!" 

Again,  Mrs.  Sharpe  swept  the  circle  with  eager 
eyes.  She  had  made  the  sensation  of  her  life  and 
was  greedy  of  its  sweets.  But  before  any  one  could 
respond  a  rustle  of  skirts  arose  outside,  a  hubbub  of 
voices,  and  in  came  The  Boarders. 

Some  of  the  Boarders  were  ready  enough  to  sup 
"outside"  on  Wednesday  evening.  Mrs.  Scatter  and 
her  sister  Miss  Pringle  went  regularly  to  Judge 
Peters's,  and  looked  forward,  and  back,  to  it  all  the 
week  through.  Not  that  the  Judge's  Mary  was  a> 

92 


A  Symposium 

"patch"  upon  Mr.  Mallow's  Rosanna,  but  it  made  a 
change,  and  there  was  always  a  sense  of  distinction  in 
supping  with  "my  cousin,  the  Judge."  In  the  same 
way,  the  Misses  Caddie  (Miss  Pearl  in  the  Bank, 
Miss  Ruby  in  the  Telegraph  Office)  were  glad  and 
proud  of  their  weekly  evening  with  Madam  Flynt. 
But  it  was  hard  on  those  who  had  no  life-long  ties 
with  Cyrus.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bagley  (he  traveled  in 
oil — mystic  phrase — she  worked  in  hair,  and  "chiro- 
podded,"  as  Mr.  Mallow  put  it)  had  only  been  there 
a  matter  of  ten  years,  and  they  had  no  resource  but 
the  Dew  Drop  Inn,  a  very  inferior  little  hostelry  down 
by  the  station.  It  was  harder  still  on  the  "transients." 
A  tired  bond  salesman,  let  us  say,  just  in  from  a  long 
journey,  and  looking  forward  to  one  of  the  famous 
Mallow  House  suppers,  was  not  pleased,  after  giving 
up  his  bag  and  taking  his  key,  to  be  told,  "No  supper 
to-night,  sir!"  He  might  protest,  in  angry  bewilder- 
ment, asking  if  this  called  itself  a  hotel,  etc.,  etc.  It 
made  no  difference :  Billy  had  the  one  reply,  "Wednes- 
day: no  supper,  sir!"  If  the  angry  guest  still  pro- 
tested, Mr.  Mallow  would  come  out  of  the  office, 
smiling  and  urbane.  Very  sorry,  but  it  was  a  Rule  of 
the  House.  The  Help,  you  see,  their  evening  out; 
they  had  to  be  considered,  times  like  these.  Dew 
Drop  Inn  wasn't  but  a  step ;  Billy  would  go  down  with 
him  and  bespeak  a  good  supper. 

"We'll  make  it  up  to  you  at  breakfast!"  the  guest 
was  cheerfully  assured,  as  Mr.  Mallow  bowed  him 
toward  the  door,  and  this  assurance  was  amply  ful- 
filled. Now  and  then  a  traveler  called  for  his  bag 

93 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


and  went  in  a  huff  to  spend  the  night  at  the  Dew  Drop 
Inn;  but  he  never  did  it  twice. 

Now,  as  I  said,  the  Boarders  were  back,  and  rust- 
ling in  with  a  pleasant  sense  of  home-coming.  There 
were  two  or  three  salesmen  to-night,  old  customers, 
\vho  knew  and  accepted  the  Mallow  House  ways ;  they 
were  not  Cyrus  people,  however,  and  it  would  have 
been  highly  improper  to  continue  the  conversation 
recently  begun.  Even  the  Sharpes  realized  this. 

"Come  on,  Mother!"  whispered  Cissy,  pulling  her 
mother's  shawl.  "You  won't  get  another  word  in  to- 
night! They  are  just  as  glad,  too,  I  can  see  that." 

Mother  and  daughter  departed,  and  the  others  fol- 
lowed, after  a  suitable  interchange  of  greetings  with 
the  newcomers.  Wilson  Wibird  had  come  upstairs 
with  the  Sharpes,  and  had  been  hanging  about  the 
doorway,  half  curious,  half  sullen.  He  had  been  an- 
noying Billy  all  the  evening  in  the  office,  and  had 
finally  been  dismissed  by  that  apostle  of  silence,  with 
"Go  'long!  work  to  do!"  He  resented  having  to 
escort  his  mother  and  sister  home,  but  there  was  no 
choice,  with  Mr.  Mallow's  eye  upon  him. 

"Here's  Wilson,  all  ready!"  said  the  kindly  po- 
tentate. "Wilse,  you'll  find  a  basket  in  the  back  entry 
that  Rosanny  packed  for  your  Ma,  Take  it  along, 
but  be  sure  to  bring  it  back  in  the  morning;  Rosanny 
wants  it.  Good-night,  Marshy;  good-night,  Lissy! 
Sleep  tighty,  flea  bitey !" 

Mr.  Jordano,  as  was  his  custom,  offered  his  escort 
to  the  Misses  Bygood,  and  they  walked  off  together 

94 


A  Symposium 

in  the  fashion  of  other  days,  the  gentleman  giving  an 
arm  to  each. 

"A  highly  agreeable  occasion!"  he  said.  "Friend 
Mallow  is  the  ideal  host-tost-tost." 

"He  is  indeed!"  said  Miss  Egeria,  "and  it  is  so  re- 
markable, Mr.  Jordano,  for  a  lone  man,  so  to  speak, 
to  be  such  an  excellent  housekeeper.  I  am  told  that 
the  Mallow  House  is  known  far  and  wide  as  an  ideal 
hostelry.  It  is  very  gratifying  to  know  that  Cyrus 
institutions  (for  the  Mallow  House  is  surely  an  insti- 
tution) rank  so  high  throughout  the  State." 

"Bello  hotello!  bello  hotello,"  assented  Mr.  Jor- 
dano warmly.  "House  and  host  are  well  matched, 
well  matched.  May  I  ask,  Miss  Bygood,  if  you  at- 
tach any — serious — a — importance  to  Mrs.  Sharpe's 
— shall  I  say  singular  statement?'' 

Miss  Almeria  pondered.  "It  is  hard  to  say!"  she 
pronounced  finally.  "The  method  by  which  the  infor- 
mation was  obtained — but  we  will  not  speak  of  that!" 
she  closed  her  eyes  for  a  moment,  as  if  to  shut  out 
an  unlovely  vision.  "Miss  Ross  is  peculiar:  there  is 
no  gainsaying  that.  She  has  always  gone  her  own 
way,  with  no  guidance — that  I  am  aware  of — beyond 
her  own  wishes.  But  she  is  a  woman  of  character 
and  education,  and  I  cannot  for  a  moment  believe  that 
matters  are  as — as  we  have  heard  them  represented. 
Doubtless  we  shall  know  all  in  good  time.  Mean- 
while— may  I  ask  if  you  were  contemplating  the  pos- 
sibility of  altering  or  adding  to  your  item,  Mr.  Jor- 
dano?" 

Mr.  Jordano  fluttered  perceptibly. 

95 


"Not  if  it  would  appear  in  any  way  unsuitable  to  a 
lady — to  ladies" — with  a  little  bow  to  Miss  Egeria, 
"whose  exquisite  refinement  of  taste  is  equal  to  their 
— ahem!  shall  I  say,  other  characteristics?  Not  for 
worlds,  Miss  Bygood,  if  you  advise  against  it.  At 
the  same  time,  if — if  the  information  is  to  be — a — 
generally  disseminated,  it  might — the  official  organ — 
it  might  be  expected  by  the  people — il  Publico,  you 
understand-tand-tand — I  will  do  whatever  you  advise, 
Miss  Bygood !"  the  poor  gentleman  concluded. 

It  was  heroic,  though  none  of  the  three  fully  real- 
ized it.  To  relinquish  such  a  "story,"  leave  it  to  un- 
official babblers  and — Mr.  Jordano  feared — spiteful 
gossips,  when  it  might  be  set  down  with  gravity  and 
ornamented  with  flowers  of  speech — yes,  it  was  heroic. 
The  two  ladies  thought  it  very  nice  of  Mr.  Jordano; 
but  they  thought  no  more  than  that,  and  Miss  Almeria 
gare  the  coup  de  grace  with  unfaltering  hand. 

"It  will  be  best,  I  am  convinced,"  she  said,  "to 
leave  the  item  as  it  stood  before  Mrs.  Sharpe's  en- 
trance. I  will  say,  her  unseemly  entrance.  Your 
own  instinctive  delicacy  is  so  well  known,  Mr.  Jor- 
dano  " 

"Oh!  grazier!  grazier!"  murmured  Mr.  Jordano, 
trying  to  bow  gracefully,  a  difficult  thing  writh  a  lady 
on  either  arm — "too  much,  Miss  Almeria !" 

"So  well  known,"  Miss  Almeria  repeated,  with  a 
gracious  bend  of  her  own  stately  head,  "that  all  Cyrus 
will  appreciate  your  motive  for  abstaining  from  com- 
ment upon  what  we  have  heard.  If  it  proves  true,  we 

shall  know  it  soon  enough;  if  false "  Miss  Al- 

96 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


meria's  gesture  was  eloquent  as  well  as  dignified. 
"If  false,"  cried  Mr.  Jordano, — they  were  now  at 
Mr.  Bygood's  door,  and  the  ladies  withdrew  their  arms, 
enabling  him  to  fling  his  cloak  over  his  left  shoulder 
with  a  noble  gesture — "if  false,  it  has  no  place  in  the 
columns  of  the  Cyrus  Centinel." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  TRIVIAL  ROUND 

THESE  things  and  many  more  happened  in  the 
winter;  in  February,   to  be  exact.     A  month 
later,  when  I  came  to  make  my  annual  visit  in 
beloved  Cyrus,  things  had  "simpered  down,"  as  Mr. 
Mallow  said.     The  excitement  of  Kitty's  arrival,  fol- 
lowed by  the  nine  days'   wonder  of   Miss  Johanna 
Ross's  return,  were — not  forgotten,  no  indeed !  but  laid 
away  in  spiritual  camphor,  as  it  were,  to  be  aired  and 
shaken  out  from  time  to  time. 

"My  dear,"  said  Madam  Flynt  (one's  first  visit  was 
always  to  Madam  Flynt,  one's  second  to  the  Misses 
Bygood  :  it  was  a  Propriety  of  Cyrus !) — "it  is  not  only 
that  we  could  not  get  along  without  Kitty:  we  have 
forgotten  that  we  ever  did  get  along  without  her. 
She  drives  too  fast;  I  go  in  fear -of  my  life  when  we 
turn  a  corner;  but  except  for  that,  it  is  an  ideal  ar- 
rangement." 

"The  dear  Doctor  always  drove  fast!"  Miss  Crolv 
looked  up  pensively  from  her  knitting.  "I  suppose 
Kitty  learned  it  naturally  from  him." 

"I  suppose  she  did ;  but  the  dear  Doctor  never  broke 
my  neck,  Cornelia  Croly." 

"Kitty  has  not  broken  it,  Clarissa,  has  she?" 

98 


The  Trivial  Round 


"Not  yet,  and  I  don't  mean  she  shall.  Where  are 
you  going,  Cornelia?" 

"To  get  your  milk-posset!"  Miss  Croly  was  rolling 
up  her  knitting  methodically.  "It  is  four  o'clock." 

"I  don't  want  milk-posset:  get  me  some  orange- 
juice!" 

"The  Doctor  recommended  milk-posset!"  Miss 
Croly's  tone  was  mild,  but  firm,  "I  will  try  to  make 
it  palatable,  Clarissa." 

"I  tell  you  I  won't  have  it!  Whose  house  is  this, 
I  should  like  to  know?" 

"Yours,  assuredly,  Clarissa.  I  can  leave  it  at  any 
moment  you  desire,  but  while  here  I  must  do  my  duty 
as  I  see  it." 

"What  a  pretty  scarf,  Miss  Croly!"  I  said  hastily. 
How  natural  to  be  a  buffer  again !  "Is  it  for  a  baby?" 

Madam  Flynt  uttered  something  between  a  snort 
and  a  chuckle. 

"Baby,  indeed!  I  don't  wonder  you  ask,  my  dear. 
Tell  her  what  it's  for,  Cornelia  Croly!" 

"For  the  deep-sea  fishermen,  my  love!"  Miss  Croly 
glowed  softly.  "Most  people  send  them  gray  muf- 
flers, you  know,  but  I  feel  as  if  a  little  variety,  a  touch 
of  color,  in  their  dangerous  lives,  would  be  desirable. 
The  ocean!  so  grand,  but  so  fraught  with  peril!" 

"In  a  storm,  you  understand,"  Madam  Flynt  ac- 
tually snorted  this  time;  "a  pink,  blue  and  yellow 
muffler  would  be  more  comforting  than  a  gray  one. 
Of  course!  Any  one  can  see  that!" 

"You  are  pleased  to  be  facetious,  my  dear  Cla- 
rissa;" Miss  Croly  paused,  her  hand  on  the  door; 

99 


"but  I  conceive  that  in  case  of  disaster,  the  attention 
of  a — of  a  bark  of  rescue  would  be  more  readily  at- 
tracted by  the  waving  of  a  bright  object  than  of  a  dull 
one!" 

She  slipped  out  quickly  and  shut  the  door  quietly 
upon  the  last  word.  Madam  Flynt  looked  after  her 
with  an  air  of  exasperation. 

"The  most  provoking  woman — I  have  half  a  mind 
to  call  her  back!  What  were  you  saying,  my  dear?" 

I  was  saying  as  quickly  as  I  could  how  very  well 
Madam  Flynt  was  looking.  I  hoped  the  rheumatism 
was  fairly  routed  this  time.  The  dear  lady's  brow 
cleared  at  once. 

"Much  better!  I  am  bound  to  say  that  it  is  much 
better  than  I  ever  expected  it  to  be.  Cornelia  Croly, 
who  has  really  more  sense  than  you  would  give  her 
credit  for" — she  cast  another  exasperated  glance  at 
the  door — "says  that  I  seem  ten  years  younger,  and  I 
certainly  do  move  much  more  freely  than  I  have  for 
years.  It  is  partly  the  driving :  Kitty  is  a  delightful 
companion,  you  know,  and  she  keeps  me  out  a  good 
part  of  the  afternoon,  instead  of  skimping  the  last 
ten  minutes  of  the  hour,  as  Flanagan  did — old  wretch ! 
His  carriage  was  uncomfortable,  too,  and  as  for  his 
horses!  Every  day  he  would  ask  regularly  whether 
I  would  have  'the  plain  hoss  or  the  double-speeder:' 
the  double-speeder  went  about  four  miles  an  hour;  as 
for  the  other — well,  he's  dead,  and  Flanagan,  too,  so 
no  matter.  John  Tucker's  horses,  and  the  cee  springs, 
and  Kitty  and  all,  makes  driving  a  very  different  mat- 
ter, I  can  tell  you.  But  besides  that,  my  dear,  I  verily 

100 


The  Trivial  Round 


believe" — Madam  Flynt  nodded  this  time,  till  her 
green  cap  ribbons  quivered — "I  verily  believe  Johanna 
has  something  to  do  with  it !" 

"Johanna?" 

Well,  I  had  only  arrived  the  day  before,  and  Kitty 
was  out  when  I  flew  into  Ross  House  on  my  way  to 
Madam  Flynt's:  going  to  Kitty's  did  not  count  as  a 
risit,  of  course! 

"You  don't  mean  you  haven't  heard?  My  dear!" 
Madam  Flynt's  handsome  hands  were  trembling  with 
eagerness,  her  lips  began  to  shape  the  words  before 
she  could  find  voice  to  utter  them.  "You  don't  mean 
you  haven't  heard  ?"  she  repeated.  Madam  Flynt  was 
no  gossip,  but  she  loved  to  talk,  and  going  out  so  lit- 
tle, she  had  fewer  opportunities  than  the  Gadderenes, 
as  Dr.  Ross  used  to  call  some  of  his  neighbors.  One's 
first  visit  was  made  to  her,  as  I  have  said :  but  ten  to 
one  Cissy  Sharpe  or  her  mother  had  waylaid  one  on 
the  way  from  the  station,  with  "Oh,  howdy  do!  quite 
a  stranger!  Have  you  heard" — and  before  getting 
free  one  had  heard. 

"Johanna  Ross — Kitty's  aunt,  the  Doctor's  only 
sister;  very  likely  you  never  heard  of  her,  my  dear, 
just  visiting  as  you  do" — (Oh,  Madam  Flynt!  as 
if  I  were  not  Cyrus  born  and  bred,  and  exiled  through 
no  fault  of  mine!) — "but — well,  anyhow,  she  has 
come  home  after  twenty  years  of  absence;  and  what 
is  more  she  has  taken  to  her  bed,  and  there  she  is!" 

Madam  Flynt  drew  herself  up  and  nodded  gravely: 
the  green  satin  cap  ribbons  following  suit. 

101 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


"Is  she  seriously  ill?"  I  asked,  wondering. 

"My  dear!  she  says  there  is  nothing  whatever  the 
matter  with  her  except  fatigue.  I  can  understand 
that!"  she  nodded  again.  "Perfectly.  One  doesn't 
always  care  to  discuss  chronic  or  deep-seated  troubles. 
Sometimes  when  people  say  'rheumatism'  to  me,  I 
want  to  throw  the  fire-irons  at  them.  I  don't  mean 
you,  my  dear;  perfectly  natural  and  right  for  you  to 
ask;  I  should  have  been  hurt  if  you  hadn't.  Well! 
there  Johanna  is,  as  I  said.  I  go  over  to  see  her  once 
a  week — walk  over,  with  the  step  of  youth,  Cornelia 
Croly  says,  and  there  I  find  her  in  her  bed,  looking  as 
permanent  as  the  Pyramids." 

At  this  moment  Miss  Croly  came  in  softly  with  the 
milk-posset.  Madam  Flynt  took  it  with  an  absent- 
minded,  "Thanks,  Cornelia !"  drank  it  off,  then  paused 
with  a  look  of  discomfiture. 

"I  told  you  I  wouldn't  take  it !"  she  said  sharply. 

"Your  natural  good  sense" — murmured  Miss  Croly 
with  a  glance  at  the  empty  cup — "the  Doctor  recom- 
mended  " 

"Hang  the  Doctor!  and  you,  too!"  exclaimed 
Madam  Flynt.  "You — you — you — go  away,  Cornelia 
Croly !  go  and" — Miss  Croly  was  already  at  the  door, 
aggressive  meekness  in  every  line  of  face  and  figure — 
"and  bring  me  my  smelling-salts,  if  you  will  have 
the  goodness!" 

The  last  words  were  spoken  with  austere  dignity : 
but,  the  door  once  closed,  Madam  Flynt's  sense  of 
humor  was  too  much  for  her.  Her  lips  began  to 
twitch,  her  eyes  to  twinkle  even  under  the  bent  brows 

102 


The  Trivial  Round 


of  anger.  She  struggled  for  a  moment,  then  burst 
into  a  hearty  fit  of  laughter. 

'The  old  fox !"  she  cried.  "She  gets  the  better  of 
me  every  time!  every  time,  Mary!  She's  chuckling 
to  herself  now,  but  she'll  come  in  as  sober  as — thank 
you,  Cornelia!  I  hope  you  haven't  over-exerted  your- 
self!" as  Miss  Croly,  still  aggressively  meek,  retired 
to  a  corner  with  her  rainbow  scarf.  Dear  me!  yes, 
she  always  sat  in  that  uncomfortable  chair  when  they 
had  had  a  tiff. 

"What  was  I  saying,  my  dear?"  Madam  Flynt 
rubbed  her  nose  with  her  silver  spectacle-case,  and 
threw  a  vexed  glance  toward  the  corner. 

"Oh,  yes,  Johanna!  like  the  Pyramids,  my  dear, 
I  assure  you!  I  don't  mean  in  looks"  (I  had  a  mo- 
ment's vision  of  Cheops  with  a  nightcap  tilted  over 
his  apex)  "she  looks  like  a  picture — but  in  perma- 
nence. Sits  up  morning  and  evening  to  have  her  bed 
made:  and,  as  Cornelia  Croly  says,  in  some  mysteri- 
ous way  it  makes  me  feel  younger  just  to  look  at  her. 
Cornelia,  stop  being  ridiculous,  and  come  out  of  that 
corner.  I  didn't  really  swear  at  you,  though  you  are 
enough  to  make  one." 

Seeing  reconciliation  imminent,  I  slipped  away,  to 
find  my  Kitty  intfhe  stable.  My  Kitty !  I  was  just  as 
foolish  about  herras  any  one  else.  I  had  not  seen  her 
since*ail  the  happenings,  but  by  and  by  we  were  quiet 
and  comfortable,  and  combing  out  Pilot's  beautiful 
mane,  as  if  we  had  never  been  away,  either  of  us. 
Kitty  confided  to  me  that  she  was  awaiting  John 
Tucker's  return  in  trepidation,  not  to  say  terror.  She 

103 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


had  bought  a  new  horse,  bought  it  all  by  herself,  with- 
out John  Tucker's  seeing  it.  That  is,  not  actually 
bought  it,  but  taken  it  on  trial. 

"How  could  I?  Mary,  I  don't  know!  We  had 
decided  that  we  must  have  a  third  horse.  The  busi- 
ness is  growing  so,  my  dear !  Mr.  Chanter's  horse  is 
lame,  and  I  have  to  take  the  dear  man  on  his  out-of- 
town  calls.  Such  fun!  well,  this  morning — oh!  oh! 
Mary!  here  is  John  Tucker.  Now  I  must  confess  to 
him.  Stay  by  me,  won't  you  ?" 

Dan  and  John  Tucker  came  into  the  stable,  a  sturdy, 
handsome  pair.  I  was  warmly  greeted  (I,  too,  had 
been  Don  Tutter's  Dal  when  time  was)  and  allowed 
to  lead  Dan  into  his  stall.  I  hurried  to  the  harness 
room  in  time  to  hear  Kitty's  confession,  she  standing 
like  a  schoolgirl  with  her  hands  behind  her,  John 
Tucker  in  that  state  of  glowing  pride  in  her  that  he 
could  hardly  take  in  the  situation. 

"John  Tucker,  dear,  I  have  bought  a  horse !" 

"You  have,  Miss  Kitty?  You  have?  Well,  to  be 
sure!  the  spirit  of  you!  I'll  bet  he's  a  good  one.' 

"He's  a  miracle,  John!  A  beautiful  bright  bay, 
with  a  star  on  his  forehead,  and  four  white  stockings ; 
you  know  I  never  could  abide  odd  stockings." 

"No,  Miss!  To  be  sure  not.  Where  did  you  get 
him,  if  I  may  make  so  bold,  Miss  Kitty?" 

"Don't  talk  about  making  bold,  John  Tucker.  It's 
I  who  have  been  making  bold.  I  am  scared  out  of 
my  wits,  you  know  I  am,  but  he  is  such  a  beauty! 
Let's  sit  down,  John  Tucker  dear,  and  I'll  tell  you 
all  about  it 

104 


The  Trivial  Round 


Perched  sidewise  on  the  arm  of  a  chair,  her  hands 
clasped  on  her  knee,  her  chin  tilted  up,  Kitty  was  so 
enchanting  an  object  that  I  could  not  wonder  at  John 
Tucker's  fatuous  expression.  Probably  if  she  had 
told  him  of  the  purchase  of  a  giraffe  or  an  elephant, 
he  would  have  looked  no  less  fatuous.  As  it  was 

"You  see,  John,"  Kitty  began  slowly,  taking  out  a 
hatpin  and  jabbing  it  into  the  arm  of  the  chair  to 
punctuate  her  remarks,  "I  took  Mr.  Chanter  to  see  a 
poor  old  Thing  who  is  sick,  and  in  trouble  besides; 
sad  trouble,  I'm  afraid.  Her  son  hasn't  been  doing 
well  lately ;  but — well — he  is  a  good  son  to  her,  only 
he  has  been  unfortunate.  He  deals  in  horses " 

John  Tucker  looked  up.  "What  was  the  name,  did 
you  say,  Miss?" 

"I  didn't  say,  John  Tucker  dear,  but  the  name  is 
Boody;  Mrs.  L.  M.  Boody.  Her  son  is  L.  M.,  too. 
I  don't  know " 

"Ellum  Boody:  Slippery  Ellum!"  murmured  John 
Tucker.  "Scuse  me,  Miss  Kitty.  Luke  his  name  is, 
but  he's  known  like  I  say.  Scuse  me,  Miss  Kitty!" 

"Oh,  I  hope  he  isn't  slippery,  John  Tucker,  dear. 
Let  me  tell  you!  I  was  sitting  out  in  Mr.  Chanter's 
buggy,  when  he — Boody,  I  mean — drove  into  the  yard 
with  this  horse.  His  name  is  Hero,  John ;  good  name, 
don't  you  think?  I  was  taken  with  him  at  once;  such 
a  beautiful  color,  and  holds  his  head  so  well!  The 
man  touched  his  hat,  and  was  very  civil;  I  said  how 
handsome  the  horse  was,  and  he  was  most  enthu- 
siastic. Said  he  had  never  had  such  a  fine  horse  in 
his  stable,  and  he  wouldn't  part  with  him  for  a  gold 

105 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


mine  if  things  weren't  just  as  they  were.  So  I  asked 
was  he  thinking  of  selling  him,  because  you  know 
we  decided  we  had  to  have  one,  John ;  and  he  said  yes, 
if  the  right  party  could  be  found.  'For  sell  that  hoss 
to  the  wrong  party  is  what  I  couldn't  do,  not  if  he 
was  the  Angel  Gable!'  he  said.  Then  I  asked  about 
him,  you  know ;  six  years  old,  sound  and  kind,  a  lady's 
horse  every  inch  of  him,  Boody  said,  and  wouldn't 
I  like  to  take  a  turn  behind  him  while  I  waited.  So 
I  did,  and  he  is  a  good  roadster,  John;  eight  or  ten 
miles  an  hour,  I  should  think ;  Boody  says  twelve,  but 

I'm  not   sure "   I   glanced   at  John  Tucker  and 

saw  that  he  was  not  sure.  "Good  action!  lifts  his 
feet  a  little  high,  but  Boody  says  that  is  his  spirit; 
and  as  to  his  disposition,  John,  just  think  what  he 
did  one  day!  Some  women  hired  him,  Boody  says, 
and  put  him  in  their  own  wagon,  and  forgot  to  fasten 
the  breeching.  They  drove  him  seven  miles  over  that 
rough  road  by  Gambrel  Hill,  all  ups  and  downs, 
you  know,  and  he  never  did  a  thing!  What  do  you 
think  of  that,  John  Tucker?" 

"Sounds  as  if  he  might  be  some  hoss!"  said  John 
Tucker  cautiously.  "You've  took  him  on  trial,  you 
say,  Miss  Kitty?" 

"Yes,  John,  a  week.  I  thought  in  that  time — why, 
here  he  is  now,  this  very  minute !" 

A  man  was  driving  into  the  yard  in  a  light  trotting 
sulky.  We  all  hastened  out  into  the  yard. 

"You  were  quick,  Mr.  Boody!"  cried  Kitty.  "This 
is  Mr.  Boody,  John  Tucker,  and  this  is  Hero:  isn't 
he  a  beauty  ?" 

;io6 


The   Trivial  Round 


"Mornin',  Slip!" 

"Mornin',  Tucker!" 

Both  men  spoke  gravely.  Seeing  that  they  knew 
each  other,  Kitty  exchanged  a  glance  with  me,  and 
we  slipped  back  a  pace.  Followed  remarks  on  the 
weather.  It  was  seasonable,  take  it  by  and  large,  but 
dry.  What  we  wanted  was  a  nice  warm  rain.  That 
was  right;  dry  May  made  poor  hay,  no  two  ways  to 
that.  John  Tucker,  still  grave,  inquired  for  the  health 
of  Mr.  Boody's  Ma;  he  trusted  she  was  smart  these 
days.  It  appeared  that  she  was  slim,  Mr.  Boody  was 
obleeged  to  John  Tucker  for  askin'.  Her  victuals 
didn't  nourish  her:  any  one  gettin'  on  in  years,  they 
had  to  be  nourished,  you  understand.  John  Tucker 
expected  that  was  right,  too.  Upon  this,  both  men 
pondered;  John  Tucker  scrutinizing  a  wart  on  his  left 
knuckle,  Mr.  Boody  whistling  through  his  teeth  and 
looking  up  at  the  clouds.  Presently : 

"Got  a  new  hoss,  I  see !"  said  John  Tucker. 

"Yep !"  Mr.  Boody's  gaze  came  down  with  alacrity. 
"The  lady  thought  she'd  like  to  try  him.  Best  hoss 
ever  I  had  in  my  stable,  bar  none.  Pequot  out  of 
Lady  Lansing:  sound  and  kind  anywhere;  lady's 
hoss  every  inch  of  him.  Rising  six,  and  not  an  out 
about  him.  You  get  that  hoss  and  you'll  get 

Boody  paused  abruptly.  John  Tucker  had  lifted 
one  of  the  bay's  hind  feet,  and  was  examining  it  care- 
fully. Presently  he  straightened  himself  and  looked 
at  Boody. 

"I  was  to  Rochester  Fair  last  fall !"  he  said. 

"You  was?"  A  curious  change  came  over  Mr. 
107 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


Boody's  countenance.  It  seemed  to  flatten  itself  in 
a  singular  way,  while  his  mouth  widened  into  an  un- 
easy grin.  "Pooty  good  show,  wasn't  it?"  he  said. 

"Pooty  fair!  good  truck,  and  middlin'  stock.  The 
most  re-markable  thing  I  see  at  that  fair" — John 
Tucker  spoke  slowly,  and  there  was  a  certain  metallic 
quality  in  his  voice  that  made  Kitty  look  at  him 
quickly — "the  most  re-markable  was  a  young  hoss; 
bright  bay,  as  it  might  be  this  hoss :  same  color,  same 
markin's;  he  was  a  pictur'  to  look  at,  he  sure  was. 
Well,  sir,  I  see  that  hoss  take  and  kick  the  wagon  he 
was  hitched  to  into  pieces  that  the  biggest  of  'em 
wouldn't  sell  to  a  match  factory.  I  was  surprised!" 

There  was  a  silence.  Then  L.  M.  Boody  spoke,  a 
hint  of  bluster  in  his  voice. 

"Wai!"  he  said.  "A  kicker  is  a  poor  hoss,  sure 
enough;  but  all  kickers  ain't  bay,  nor  all  bays  ain't 
kickers.  I  brung  this  hoss  for  the  lady  to  try,  like 
she  said  for  me  to.  Where  shall  I  leave  him?  Is  she 
boss  here,  or  are  you?" 

His  speech  was  insolent,  his  look  craven.  John 
Tucker  stepped  forward,  his  sixty  years  resting  very 
lightly  on  him.  His  meditative  drawl  gave  place  to 
quick,  ringing  speech. 

"Miss  Ross  is  boss  here,"  he  said,  "and  that  hoss 
shall  go  anywhere  she  tells  me  to  put  him.  Before 
she  gives  her  orders,  she's  going  to  hear  what  I  have 
to  say — if  you  have  the  time  to  spare,  Miss — Miss 
Ross!"  He  turned  to  Kitty  with  a  bow  and  gesture 
that  would  not  have  shamed  a  court.  Kitty's  cheeks 
were  flushing  and  her  eyes  widening  and  darkening. 

108 


The  Trivial  Round 


One  knew  precisely  what  the  Chanters  meant  by  say- 
ing that  her  eyes  were  sometimes  a  mile  round. 

"If  you  please,  John!"  she  said  quietly. 

Then  John  Tucker,  standing  very  straight,  thus  de- 
livered himself. 

"Miss  Kitty,  I'm  a  common  man,  and  I  may  be  mis- 
took; but  if  I  know  anything — anything  at  all,  let 
alone  hosses — this  young  hoss  is  that  identical  young 
hoss  that  I  see  kick  that  shay  to  slivers  over  to 
Rochester.  How  do  I  know?  Well,  his  color  is  the 
same,  his  markin's  is  the  same,  his  shape  and  his  ac- 
tion is  the  same.  But  that  ain't  all !  That  young  hoss 
over  to  Rochester,  he  was  a  pictur'  fer  looks,  same  as 
this  one;  but  yet  when  I  looked  in  his  countenance,  I 
felt  someways  or  another  as  if  I  couldn't  say  nothin' 
favorable  about  him.  Don't  know  how  'tis,  but  that 
feelin'  '11  come  over  me,  'bout  a  hoss  or  'bout  a  bein', 
'cordin'  to ;  and  when  it  comes,  /  know  it's  right.  Now 
that  same  feelin'  has  come  over  me  about  this  young 
hoss.  And  why?"  John  Tucker's  voice  rose.  "Be- 
cause he  is  the  same  hoss!  But  that  ain't  all!"  as  Mr. 
Boody  was  about  to  speak.  "You  might  say  one  bust 
don't  set  a  hoss  down  a  kicker.  That  is  so,  but  I  say 
this  ain't  a  case  of  one  bust;  I  say  this  hoss  has  been 
kickin'  within  twenty-four  hours." 

"Like  to  see  you  prove  it!"  said  Boody.  "Easy 
there,  Hero!  He  knows  you're  slanderin'  him.  You 
can't  fool  this  hoss.  You'll  get  into  trouble,  John 
Tucker.  I'll  have  the  law  of  you  if " 

The  horse  had  laid  back  his  ears,  and  was  settling 
back  in  a  curious  way. 

109 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


"Look  out !"  said  John  Tucker  sharply. 

Boody,  with  a  muttered  curse  and  a  savage  look, 
laid  his  whip  heavily  over  the  horse's  withers.  The 
animal  hesitated  a  moment,  then  sprang  forward; 
another  moment,  and  they  had  vanished  round  the 
corner  in  a  cloud  of  dust. 

John  Tucker  turned  to  Kitty  with  an  apologetic  air. 

"I'm  sorry,  Miss  Kitty!"  he  said.  "I'm  real  sorry. 
I  would  of  if  I  could " 

"Oh,  John  Tucker,  don't!"  Kitty  was  scarlet,  her 
eyes  flashing,  her  hands  clenched.  "The  horrid  man ! 
Oh,  I  am  so  grateful  to  you,  John !  But  how  did  you 
know?" 

"Well,  Miss  Kitty,  you  see,  'twas  easy  enough,  look 
at  it  one  way.  I'd  seed  the  hoss  before,  seed  him  at 
his  tricks,  too.  Yes'm :  I'd  seed  him  before,  and — "  a 
joke  began  to  twinkle  in  John  Tucker's  eyes,  and 
spread  all  over  him  till  he  became  incandescent;  you 
could  have  lighted  a  match  at  him ;  "and  now  I've  seed 
him  behind !  haw !  haw !  You  see  me  lift  up  his  off  hind 
foot?  Well,  why  did  I  do  that?  Because  when  he 
shifted  his  footin'  I  see  a  spark  of  yeller.  Come  to 
look,  and  lo  ye,  his  hoof  was  kind  o'  crushed  in  above 
the  shoe,  where  he'd  struck  iron,  and  there  was  a 
flake  of  yellow  paint  on  it  big  as  my  thumb  nail." 

"And  he  knew  that!"  Kitty  was  pale  now,  not  with 
fear  but  with  anger.  "The  scoundrel!" 

"Well!"  John  Tucker  pulled  out  his  jack-knife  and 
made  a  thoughtful  incision  in  the  door-jamb.  "I  dono 
as  I'd  just  say  that;  I  dono  as  he's  a  scoundrel;  he's 
a  trader !  I've  heard  it  said, — I  dono  as  it's  so,  and  I 

no 


The   Trivial  Round 


dono  as  it  is — but  I've  heard  it  said  that  there  ain't 
no  one,  not  even  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  a  holy  man, 
but  what  he'll  stretch  the  truth  just  a  little  grain  in  a 
hoss  trade." 

John  Tucker  closed  his  jack-knife  with  a  snap. 
"Forget  it,  Miss  Kitty!"  he  said,  and  his  tone  ex- 
pressed finality.  "You  won't  have  no  more  trouble 
with  Slippery  Ellum.  He  thought  he'd  try  it  on, 
that's  all,  to  keep  his  hand  in,  like;  tradin'  is  like 
drink  to  him.  Hark !  there's  that  hen  again !" 

"What  hen,  John?" 

John  Tucker  chuckled  and  made  a  gesture  of  cau- 
tion. 

"Now  I'll  show  ye  something  curious,  gals.  I  would 
say  young  ladies.  You  hear  that  hen  cackle?  Well, 
it's  that  little  Brown  Leghorn.  She's  made  her  nest 
in  Dan's  manger,  and  she  won't  lay  nowhere  else,  not 
if  the  President  was  to  ask  her.  Easy  now!  Don't 
let  Dan  see  you!" 

Cautiously,  we  followed  him  into  the  stable,  flat- 
tening ourselves  against  the  wall  so  that  we  could  not 
be  seen  from  the  loose  boxes;  very  cautiously  we 
peeped  round  the  window  opening.  Dan,  wisest  of 
horses  since  old  Victory  died,  was  standing  in  the 
middle  of  the  box,  every  fibre  of  him  alert,  his  eyes 
fixed  on  a  corner  of  the  manger.  In  this  corner  sat  a 
Brown  Leghorn  hen,  proclaiming  to  the  world  that 
she  had  laid  an  egg.  Having  made  this  perfectly  clear, 
stie  rose  slowly  from  her  nest,  clucked,  cocked  an  ap- 
proving eye  at  the  egg,  clapped  her  wings,  said, 
"Scraw!"  several  times,  finally  hopped  down  to  the 

in 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


barn  floor  and  departed,  presumably  in  search  of  corn. 
In  a  flash,  Dan's  velvet  nose  was  in  the  nest.  Care- 
fully he  lipped  the  egg,  daintily  he  took  it  in  his  teeth ; 
a  crack,  a  gulp;  luncheon  was  over,  and  Dan  looked 
up  as  we  advanced,  with  eyes  of  innocent  welcome. 

"Why,  Dan!"  cried  Kitty.  "You  old  fox!  Do 
you  mean  that  he  does  this  regularly,  John  ?" 

"Reg'lar  every  day  since  she  begun  to  lay.  I'd 
ought  to  stop  him,  but  honest,  he's  so  cute,  and  so 
quick,  I'd  need  to  spend  the  mornin'  watchin' !" 

"Sugar,  please!"  said  Dan.     "I  am  very  hungry!" 

"You  really  ought  to  be  ashamed,  Dan."  Kitty 
was  searching  in  her  pocket.  "You  are  extremely 
greedy,  beloved.  You  shall  have  only  one  lump,  and 
Pilot  shall  have  two,  because  he  has  had  no  egg.  Oh, 
me !  there  is  the  supper  bell.  We  must  run,  Mary !" 

Sarepta,  at  the  kitchen  door,  bell  in  hand,  addressed 
us  with  severity. 

"Supper's  ready,  girls.  Come  in  just  as  you  are, 
Kitty,  or  the  waffles  will  be  leathery.  Hasten,  now!" 

"Mary,"  said  Kitty,  as  we  scurried  across  ihe  yard, 
"do  you  suppose  I  shall  ever  be  more  than  ten  years 
old,  in  blessed  Cyrus?" 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  SKELETON  IN  CYRUS'  CUPBOARD 

PERHAPS  no  one  was  enjoying  Kitty  and  her 
horses  more  at  this  time  than  the  Reverend  Tim- 
othy Chanter.  When  he  came  to  Cyrus,  to  re- 
place the  Reverend  Holdfast  Baxter,  deceased  after  a 
pastorate  of  forty-seven  years,  he  took  over  the  par- 
sonage as  it  stood,  and  with  it  Gudgeon  the  sexton, 
Felicity  the  cat  and  Podasokus  the  horse.  The  age  of 
Podasokus  might  be  anywhere  from  twenty  to  forty 
years.  The  children,  who  had  known  him  all  their 
lives,  supposed  him  to  be  a  hundred.  He  was  a  sin- 
gular, moth-eaten  old  creature,  seeming  to  slope  all 
ways  at  once;  I  don't  know  how  else  to  describe  him. 
He  could  trot  rather  fast  when  he  wished,  but  this 
was  seldom;  he  preferred  to  jog  or  single-foot  at  a 
rate  of  three  miles  an  hour.  This  had  suited  Mr.  Bax- 
ter well  enough,  for  he  composed  his  sermons  while 
driving;  as  for  his  parish  calls,  if  he  could  not 
compass  them,  he  was  all  the  better  pleased.  But 
Mr.  Chanter,  deep  in  his  heart,  had  an  inborn  love  of 
good  horses  and  fast  driving.  It  was  part  of  his 
simple  creed  to  deny  himself  anything  he  specially 
liked;  it  was  an  affair  between  himself  and  his  Maker 
so  he  thought.  The  neck  of  the  fowl  was  al- 
"3 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


ways  his  portion,  till  Mrs.  Chanter  took  the  carving 
into  her  own  hands;  he  found  the  fireside  too  hot  in 
winter,  the  shady  corner  too  cool  in  summer.  Much 
of  his  wife's  time  was  devoted  to  circumventing  "Pel- 
ican Pa,"  as  he  was  disrespectfully  called  in  the  bosom 
of  the  family.  Acting  on  this  principle,  Mr.  Chanter 
had  never  thought  of  exchanging  Podasokus  for  a 
better  animal.  He  was  there.  If  one  could  "live  well 
in  a  palace,"  one  could  also  drive  a  slow  horse.  So, 
when  he  was  in  a  hurry,  he  walked,  or  borrowed  the 
boys'  bicycle.  When  he  had  plenty  of  time,  he  drove 
Podasokus. 

When  Podasokus  felt  that  he  must  have  a  nap  in 
the  middle  of  the  high  road,  Mr.  Chanter  hauled  the 
wagon  to  the  hedge,  and  read  the  works  of  the  late 
R.  J.  Ingersoll,  which  he  particularly  disliked,  till 
the  steed  woke  up  again  and  jogged  along. 

These  things  being  so,  Mr.  Chanter  found  it  hard 
to  grieve  deeply  when  "Pod"  went  lame,  and  he  must 
call  upon  Kitty  Ross  for  his  longer  expeditions.  The 
parish  was  a  straggling  one;  Cyrus  itself  is  compact 
as  a  pie,  but  South,  East  and  West  Cyrus  stretch  far 
over  hill  and  dale.  What  more  delightful  than  to  drive 
to  South  Cyrus  behind  Dan  or  Pilot,  with  Kitty  hold- 
ing the  reins?  Kitty  was  the  perfect  companion,  Mr. 
Chanter  said.  She  talked  just  enough  and  not  too 
much ;  and  she  always  seemed  to  know  when  one  was 
inclined  to  meditate  or — a — "or  sleep!"  assented  Mrs. 
Chanter,  who  had  "put  Kitty  wise"  on  certain  points. 
"Exactly!" 

On  a  pleasant  April  morning  the  two  were  thus 

114 


The  Skeleton  in  Cyrus'  Cupboard 

driving  along  the  South  Cyrus  road.  Pilot  was  in  the 
shafts,  and  in  high  spirits.  The  day  before  had  been 
rainy,  and  he  had  not  been  out ;  now  he  sped  along  the 
sun-dappled  road  as  if  every  stride  were  a  pleasure; 
now  and  then  breaking  into  a  canter  of  rejoicing,  to  be 
checked  by  Kitty  with  affectionate  firmness.  When 
they  had  climbed  and  dipped  the  intervening  hills  and 
the  plain  stretched  before  them  like  a  floor,  Mr.  Chan- 
ter leaned  back  in  his  seat  and  rubbed  his  hands. 

"This  is  delightful!"  he  said.  "This  is  de-lightful, 
Kitty!  ha!  the  poetry  of  motion. 

"  'And  thought  the  air  must  rush  as  fresh 
To  swallows  on  the  wing!' 

A  fine  horse  (and  Pilot  is  a  remarkably  fine  horse!)  is 
after  mankind,  one  of  the  noblest  works  of  God." 

"Isn't  he?"  said  Kitty.  "And  not  always  such  a 
long  way  after,  do  you  think,  Mr.  Chanter?  Com- 
pare Pilot,  or  Dan  either,  with — with  some  people! 
that  horrid  Boody  man !  Neither  Pilot  nor  Dan  would 
think  of  cheating  in  a  horse  trade!" 

"Surely  not!  surely  not!"  Mr.  Chanter  acquiesced. 
"They  would  scorn  such  an  action." 

"To  be  sure,  Dan  does  steal  eggs!"  Kitty  continued 
meditatively.  "But  then — that  seems  a  little  differ- 
ent, don't  you  think?  A  hen  is  such  a  goose!" 

"Surely  not!  surely  not!"  said  the  Reverend  Tim- 
othy again  in  sonorous  accent. 

Kitty  glanced  at  him:  he  was  making  a  series  of 
courteous  bows  to  Pilot's  glossy  hindquarters;  was  in 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


fact  as  nearly  asleep  as  any  one  could  be  whose  eyes 
were  only  half  shut. 

"Dear  soul !"  murmured  Kitty  to  herself.  "He  was 
up  half  the  night  with  that  sick  man,  Mrs.  Chanter 
said.  He  might  as  well  take  a  good  nap.  Easy  now, 
Pilot!  easy,  dear  boy!" 

Pilot,  who  had  been  dancing  a  bit  in  the  joy  of  his 
heart,  settled  into  a  smooth  trot,  and  conveyed  to  Kitty 
by  a  toss  of  his  beautiful  head  that  he  could  keep  this 
up  all  day,  though  it  was  a  trifle  dull.  "Never  mind, 
darling!"  said  Kitty.  "You  shall  rush  all  the  way 
home  if  you  like." 

She  fell  into  a  muse,  as  the  miles  sped  smoothly  by. 
It  was  spring;  really  and  truly,  or  almost  really  and 
truly,  almost  spring. 

"Really  spring,  or  nearly  spring, 
And,  oh,  I  love  you  dearly,  spring !" 

she  hummed  under  her  breath.  Kitty  loved  to  think 
in  rhyme.  Sometimes  for  days  together  she  and 
Tommy  would  hardly  speak  in  prose.  Tommy  was 
far  cleverer,  of  course:  (he  was  not!)  did  he  talk 
rhyme  now,  Kitty  wondered,  and  if  so,  to  whom? 
Something  pricked  her;  she  put  the  thought  resolutely 
away. 

"'Tis  a  month  before  the  month  of  May, 
And  the  spring  comes  slowly  up  this  way." 

What  was  the  strange  magic  of  those  two  lines? 
They  simply  were  the  New  England  spring,  which 
Coleridge  never  saw.  Ah!  pussy  willows!  she  must 

116 


The  Skeleton  in  Cyrus'  Cupboard 

get  some — she  half  checked  the  horse,  but  chirruped 
to  him  again  with  a  little  sigh.  Nobody  to  take  pussy 
willows  to,  now.  How  Mother  loved  them!  They 
were  just  like  that  gray  velvet  gown  of  hers.  Little 
Mother!  Aunt  Johanna  wouldn't  care  for  pussy  wil- 
lows; as  for  Sarepta !  But  how  good  they  both 

were;  what  really  interesting  persons!  and  so  bracing 
to  live  with !  Kitty  chuckled,  recalling  the  after  break- 
fast hour  this  morning. 

She  was  making  her  customary  call  on  Aunt 
Johanna,  and  that  lady,  erect  amid  her  pillows,  re- 
splendent in  sapphire  blue  and  Mechlin  (she  had  a 
different  jacket  for  every  morning;  the  bedridden,  she 
maintained,  must  make  variety  for  themselves!)  was 
holding  forth  on  the  subject  of  classes.  "Keep  people 
in  their  place!"  said  the  lady.  "It  is  my  invariable 
rule.  If  a  salesman  is  uppish  with  me,  he  takes  his 
uppishness  elsewhere  within  twenty- four  hours.  When- 
ever any  one  forgets  his  place,  put  him  back  in  it 
without  delay.  Delay  makes  for  uncertainty,  and  un- 
certainty is  fatal  in  business  and  everywhere  else.  An 
instance,  my  dear!  The  day  before  I  left  New  York, 
I  took  a  friend,  a  nice  young  girl,  who  didn't  have 
many  friends,  to  the  Ritz  Carlton  for  lunch.  They 
have  good  coffee  there;  not  like  Sarepta's,  but  good. 
Well,  after  the  ice-cream  I  ordered  peaches ;  the  waiter 
brought  me  two.  Two  peaches!  I  looked  at  him.  'I 
ordered  peaches!'  I  said.  'I  did  not  specify  the  num- 
ber.' He  mumbled  something,  and  I  told  him  to  speak 
up.  Teaches  is  very  expensive,  Mum!'  said  the  crea- 
ture." 

117 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


Kitty  burst  into  a  ripple  of  laughter.  "I  wish  I 
had  been  there,  Aunt  Johanna.  What  did  you  say?" 

"Say?  I  said,  'Trot  along,  Nancy!  Do  I  look  as  if 
I  couldn't  pay  for  'em?'  He  trotted." 

Kitty's  laughter  rippled  again  as  she  recalled  her 
aunt's  gesture. 

"Speaking  of  trotting,  Pilot  dear,"  she  said,  "we 
might  as  well — quiet,  boy!  quiet!" 

Pilot  had  shied,  a  thing  almost  unheard  of.  They 
were  passing  a  tall  dark  hedge;  something  rustled  in 
it,  and  startled  the  horse.  As  Kitty  soothed  him,  a 
figure  half  emerged  from  a  gap  in  the  hedge ;  she  was 
aware  of  a  thin,  dark,  haggard  face,  of  two  burning 
eyes,  which  fixed  her  for  an  instant  with  a  piercing 
gaze ;  then  the  figure  slunk  back  again  and  the  branches 
closed  over  it. 

"Surely  not!  surely  not!"  said  the  Reverend  Tim- 
othy Chanter,  in  a  tone  of  profound  conviction.  "You 
were  speaking  of  the  good  horse,  my  dear;  has  any- 
thing annoyed  him?  I  think  I  lost  myself  a  moment." 

"He  was  startled,  and  I  don't  wonder ;  I  was  startled 
too.  A  man  came  out  of  the  hedge:  such  a  strange- 
looking  man,  Mr.  Chanter." 

"Hedge?  Man?"  Mr.  Chanter  glanced  around  him 
and  his  face  changed.  "What  kind  of  man,  Kitty  ?" 

"A  wild,  ragged  man.  He  looked  sick,  and — I  had 
just  a  glimpse,  but  he  looked — all  wrong,  somehow. 
It's  the  old  Gaylord  place,  you  know.  I  never  saw 
any  living  creature  about  it  before, — but  once!  Have 
you  ever  seen  any  one  there,  Mr.  Chanter?" 

118 


The  Skeleton  in  Cyrus'  Cupboard 

Mr.  Chanter  cleared  his  throat  with  some  elabora- 
tion. 

"I  believe  it  has  not  been  inhabited  for  some  years," 
he  replied.  There  was  a  shade  on  his  candid  counte- 
nance. He  was  not  in  the  habit  of  evading  the  direct 
answer. 

"It  is  a  fine  place,  spite  of  its  neglected  condition." 

Kitty  glanced  back  at  the  dark  hedge,  with  the 
dark  chimneys  rising  above  it,  and  shivered  a  little. 
"I  have  always  been  afraid  of  the  place,  somehow!" 
she  said.  "I  had  a  fright  there  once,  when  I  was  a 
child." 

"Had  you  so,  my  love  ?  No  one  should  ever  frighten 
a  child.  Very  remiss:  very  wrong,  if  intentional." 

"Oh,  no,  no  one  meant  to  frighten  me.  It  was 
just  an  accident.  We  used  to  go  there  for  nuts,  Tom 
Lee  and  I.  There  was  a  huge  chestnut  tree — I  sup- 
pose it  is  still  there — by  the  side  door  of  the  house.  It 
bore  the  biggest  chestnuts  I  ever  saw,  and  Tom  and  I 
went  there  regularly  every  October.  There  was  some- 
thing terrifying  about  the  great  dark  shuttered  house; 
(to  me,  that  is:  Tom  was  never  afraid  of  anything;) 
and  that  always  made  it  an  exciting  expedition.  You 
know  there  is  a  round  hole  in  every  shutter,  near  the 
top?  We  used  to  make  believe  we  saw  eyes  looking 
at  us  out  of  those  holes ;  and  then — one  day — "  Kitty 
shivered  again:  "well,  one.  day,  there  were  eyes!" 

"My  child!  my  child!  a — a — lively  imagination,  no 
doubt!  The  young " 

"No,  Mr.  Chanter,  the  eyes  were  there:  we  saw 
them  wink.  And  then — we  used  to  call  that  little  side 

119 


door  the  postern,  and  imagine  all  kinds  of  people  com- 
ing out  of  it,  knights  and  giants  and  princesses — well ; 
all  of  a  sudden  the  door  did  open,  and  a  man  came 
out — why!"  Kitty  stopped  short  and  turned  a  pale 
face  on  her  companion.  "Why,  Mr.  Chanter,  I  be- 
lieve— it  was — the — same  man !" 

"The  same  man,  my  dear  ?" 

"The  man  I  saw  just  now !  He  wasn't  so  thin  or  so 
haggard  then:  he  wasn't  ragged;  but — the  wild  look, 
the  burning  eyes — oh,  Mr.  Chanter,  it  all  comes  back 
to  me.  It  was  the  same  man !" 

Mr.  Chanter  was  silent  for  some  time:  then — 
"And  whom  did  you  suppose  the  man  to  be,  my  love? 
Did  he  speak  to  you?" 

"No !  I  think  he  might  have,  but  we  ran  away.  We 
were  trespassing,  of  course,  and  I  was  frightened  out 
of  my  wits.  We  supposed" — her  voice  dropped :  "we 
told  Father,  and  he  said  it  was  probably  the  owner  of 
the  house,  and  bade  us  say  nothing  about  it  to  any 
one." 

Mr.  Chanter's  face  cleared  a  little. 

"Very  sound  advice!"  he  said.  "Excellent  advice, 
my  dear.  Do  you  know,  Kitty,  my  child,  I  believe 
you  cannot  do  better  than  to  follow  it  in  this  case 
also." 

Villages  as  well  as  houses  have  their  skeleton  cup- 
boards. The  Gaylord  place  was  Cyrus'  cupboard. 
Built  in  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century,  it  had 
been  inhabited  by  one  generation  after  another  of 
Gaylords;  all  people  of  the  same  stripe  as  their  neigh- 
bors, gentle,  cultivated,  a  little  passive,  a  little  inclined 

120 


The  Skeleton  in  Cyrus'  Cupboard 

to  smile  and  let  the  world  go  by.  They  farmed  their 
wide  acres;  they  loved  their  books,  they  caught  trout 
at  one  season  and  shot  woodcock  at  another,  they 
spent  certain  weeks  or  months  in  the  City.  So  things 
went  for  a  hundred  years  and  more.  Then  one  Gay- 
lord,  more  enterprising  than  his  forebears,  made 
money:  copper,  I  think  it  was,  in  the  early  Calumet 
days.  The  money  did  him  no  special  harm.  He  refur- 
nished the  house  rather  more  splendidly  than  Cyrus 
thought  in  quite  good  taste,  but  his  wife  came  from  the 
City,  and  what  could  one  expect?  He  bought  a  good 
many  books,  and  some  pictures,  and  enjoyed  himself 
immensely:  then  he  died,  a  few  weeks  after  his  City 
wife,  and  their  son  inherited. 

Kitty  and  I  were  babies  when  Russell  Gaylord  was 
running  his  race  to  perdition.  In  our  childhood  we 
used  to  hear  a  good  deal  about  him;  never  from  our 
parents,  nor  from  Sarepta  Darwin,  but  I  am  afraid 
we  did  listen  to  Cissy  Sharpe,  who  knew  all  about  it, 
or  thought  she  did.  He  threw  the  money  right  and 
left.  He  drove  four-in-hand  through  Cyrus  streets 
with  his  college  mates,  to  the  scandal  of  the  commu- 
nity; he  held  revels  in  the  old  house,  with  a  hundred 
wax  candles  in  each  room,  and  flowers  and  music  such 
as  had  never  been  dreamed  of  in  the  quiet  village. 
People  shook  their  heads,  but  indulgently:  they  were 
proud  of  the  handsome,  open-hearted  boy.  He  had 
such  pleasant  ways!  He  loved  to  put  a  dime  in  the 
contribution  box  at  church,  and  then  slyly,  after  serv- 
ice, to  pile  it  high  with  anonymous  gold  pieces.  He 
loved  to  send  preposterous  Christmas  boxes  to  every- 

121 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


body  he  knew,  and  to  pile  up  loads  of  wood  by  night 
in  lean  woodsheds.  People  said  he  would  learn  in 
time;  his  heart  was  in  the  right  place.  He  was  the 
most  brilliant  scholar  in  his  class,  could  stand  at  the 
head  if  he  would  only  study;  when  he  had  sown  his 
wild  oats,  he  would  settle  down  in  Cyrus  and  be  a 
credit  to  all.  Even  when  he  ran  over  their  dogs  and 
in  a  tipsy  frolic  smashed  the  post  office  windows,  they 
forgave  him  and  loved  him.  He  was  a  Gaylord,  and 
could  not  really  do  anything  much  out  of  the  way. 

Then  came  the  crash.  A  riotous  houseparty  of 
men  from  the  City  (poor  City!  it  had  to  bear  the 
sins  of  many  a  village  like  Cyrus !)  ;  a  quarrel  over  the 
gaming  table;  an  insult;  a  blow,  a  knife-thrust;  a 
young  man  slain  in  his  folly,  and  blood  on  Russell 
Gaylord's  white  hands. 

They  had  all  been  drinking;  the  verdict  brought  in 
was  manslaughter,  the  sentence  ten  years'  imprison- 
ment. No  sooner  was  the  trial  over  than  the  credi- 
tors came  flocking  like  vultures.  Judge  Peters — 
young  Lawyer  Peters,  he  was  then, — who  had  charge 
of  the  estate,  paid  and  paid  and  paid;  debts  of  honor, 
so  called,  contracted  in  dishonor;  bills  for  horses,  for 
carriages,  for  rich  wines  and  costly  jewelry:  he  set 
his  teeth  and  paid  them  all.  The  last  bill  took  prac- 
tically the  last  dollar;  the  house  was  closed,  and  for 
many  a  day  Russell  Gaylord's  name  was  spoken  no 
more  in  Cyrus. 

It  must  have  been  soon  after  his  release  from  prison 
that  Kitty  and  Tom  saw  him.  It  began  to  be  whis- 
pered about,  not  among  the  gossips,  but  quietly,  among 

122 


The  Skeleton  in  Cyrus'  Cupboard 

those  who  had  been  friends  of  the  family,  that  Russell 
had  been  back;  that  Marshall  Mallow  had  seen  him 
and  spoken  with  him ;  that  he  was  a  wreck  of  his  for- 
mer self,  his  one  idea  to  forget  his  troubles  in  drink. 

Mrs.  Sharpe  never  heard  this,  though  she  knew 
something  was  going  on.  She  knew  that  one  night 
Judge  Peters  was  out  till  midnight,  no  one  knew 
where;  she  saw  him  come  home  and  she  thought  he 
didn't  put  his  latch  key  in  any  too  easy:  and  that  she 
had  met  Marsh  Mallow  and  Very  Jordano  at  ten 
o'clock,  when  she  was  hastening  home  to  her  bed,  hav- 
ing taken  some  gruel  to  those  Jessups  who  were  never 
thankful  for  anything,  and  she  met  those  two  men 
walking  in  the  street,  with  their  faces  turned  away 
from  their  homes,  they  best  knew  why.  This  was  all 
she  knew:  she  made  the  most  of  it,  and  succeeded 
in  impressing  Mrs.  Scatter  and  Mrs.  Wibird  with  a 
sense  of  impending  calamity;  but  when  the  latter 
went  to  her  brother  with  a  face  of  woe,  and  "Oh, 
Marshall!  what  is  going  on  in  Cyrus  Village?  Is 
Satan  abroad  in  our  midst,  think?  I  do  feel  a  trem- 
bling like  in  my  inside!"  she  was  met  with  a  calm, 
"Take  a  dose  of  rhubarb,  Marshy !  that'll  drive  Satan 
out  if  he  has  got  into  your  cistern !" 

Mr.  Mallow  meant  "system"  presumably:  anyhow 
he  was  pleased  with  his  remark,  and  repeated  it  to 
Mrs.  Wibird's  indignant  back  as  she  left  the  room. 

"The  idea!"  he  said  to  the  fire-irons.  "Nine  o'clock 
bell's  a  good  thing,  and  I  allus  stand  for  it ;  but  a  man 
might  stay  up  till  half  past  or  so  once  in  a  while,  you'd 

123 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


think,  'thout  every  woman  in  the  place  gettin'  all 
frustrated  up !" 

All  this  was  ten  years  ago,  be  it  remembered.  The 
whispers  had  died  away ;  silence  had  spread  and  deep- 
ened about  the  deserted  house;  all  was  as  it  had 
been. 

Kitty  took  Mr.  Chanter's  hint,  and  said  no  more 
about  the  stranger  who  had  startled  her  and  Pilot. 
Late  that  afternoon  we  two  went  for  a  walk,  as  we 
were  apt  to  do  when  she  was  at  liberty,  and  I  turned 
naturally  into  what  we  always  called  Sunset  Road, 
because  the  sun  seemed  to  go  down  at  the  end  of  it. 
Kitty  hesitated  a  moment  at  the  corner,  as  if  she 
would  suggest  another  direction;  then  turned  with  a 
little  shrug  of  self -rebuke  and  walked  beside  me.  She 
was  rather  silent;  we  usually  babbled  like  twin  brooks 
towards  the  close  of  the  day.  When  we  passed  the 
Gaylord  house,  I  looked  up  and  to  my  amazement 
saw  a  thin  blue  thread  stealing  up  from  one  of  the 
chimneys. 

"Kitty!"  I  said.  "Look!  do  you  see  the  smoke? 
Some  one  is  in  the  Gaylord  house !" 

Kitty  told  no  one  but  me  and  Judge  Peters;  I  am 
very  sure  Mr.  Chanter  told  no  one  else:  but  little  by 
little  the  knowledge  sifted  through  Cyrus  that  Russell 
Gaylord  had  come  back  once  more.  That  he  was  liv- 
ing in  a  corner  of  his  great  house,  with  not  even  a 
dog  to  bear  him  company.  That  there  was  no  use  in 
any  one's  trying  to  see  him,  as  he  would  not  open  the 
door,  even  to  the  Messrs.  Jebus,  his  old  schoolmates, 
who  had  wished  to  show  that  they  were  prepared  to 

124 


The  Skeleton  in  Cyrus'  Cupboard 

let  bygones  be  bygones  and  welcome  the  prodigal  back 
to  their  kindly  shop.  Lastly,  that  he  was  a  wreck,  and 
no  one  knew  how  he  lived  or  where  he  got  bread  to 
put  in  his  mouth. 

This  last  statement  was  false;  some  one  did  know. 
Mr.  Mallow  sat  up  long  after  curfew  these  spring 
nights;  long  after  his  staid  "help"  were  snugly  tucked 
in  their  beds.  Usually  his  bedroom  light  went  out  at 
ten  punctually;  now  it  might  be  midnight  when,  nod- 
ding by  the  kitchen  fire,  he  would  hear,  or  think  he 
heard,  a  shuffling  step  on  the  walk  outside  the  back 
door.  Then  he  would  open  the  door  and  stand  in 
the  cold,  holding  it  wide  open  so  that  the  red  fire- 
light would  shine  out  on  the  darkness. 

"Russ,"  he  would  whisper,  "that  you?  Come  in, 
won't  you?  Step  in,  and  set  with  me  a  spell!  what 
say?  I'm  rill  lon'some!" 

Usually  no  answer  came ;  then  he  would  say,  "Bas- 
ket's behind  the  door,  Russ!  Call  again  when  'tis 
empty !  Good-night,  old  chap !"  and  shut  the  door  with 
a  sigh,  and  so  to  bed.  Usually,  I  say:  but  if  now  and 
then  a  bent,  shivering  figure  crept  in  and  sat  for  half 
an  hour  by  the  fire,  warming  its  hands  and  listening 
dumbly  to  the  friendly  pleadings,  the  kindly  offers, 
why,  no  one  but  Marshall  Mallow  ever  knew  it. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE    PARTY 

GOING?"  said  Miss  Johanna  Ross:  "of  course 
I'm  not  going,  Gerie;  bed-ridden  folks  don't 
go  to  parties — except  in  novels.  I  might  be 
carried  in  like  that  woman  in  'Barchester  Towers/  in 
a  white  velvet  gown  on  a  red  silk  sofa — or  was  it  a 
red  shawl  thrown  over  the  sofa?  Well,  I  have  no 
white  velvet  gown,  but  I  think  I  could  get  up  a  fancy 
rig.  Imagine  Madam  Flynt's  face !  Do  you  advise  it, 
Gerie?" 

Miss  Egeria  looked  troubled:  she  never  knew  how 
far  to  take  Johanna  seriously. 

"You  always  look  charming,  dear  Johanna,"  she 
said.  "I  hardly  think — of  course  you  know  far  more 
than  I  about  social  functions:  it  is  so  long  since  we 
had  a  large  party  in  Cyrus " 

"Cheer  up !  I'll  stay  at  home  to  please  you !"  Miss 
Johanna  settled  herself  comfortably  among  her  pil- 
lows. 

"Now  let  me  look  at  you!" 

In  some  trepidation,  Miss  Egeria  removed  her  shawl 
(that,  at  least,  was  all  right;  a  camel's  hair  shawl  was 
always  in  good  taste!)  and  felt  the  keen  dark  eyes  take 
in  and  appraise  every  item  of  her  apparel;  the  dove- 

126 


The  Party 

colored  moire  of  antiquated  cut,  the  mosaic  jewelry, 
the  "bertha"  of  splendid  Honiton. 

"It  is  so  long  since  we  had  a  party  in  Cyrus !"  Miss 
Egeria  repeated ;  her  voice  faltered  a  little ;  Johanna's 
eyes  were  really — she  felt  quite — "quite  undressed, 
my  love!"  as  she  told  Kitty  afterward,  "as  if  I  were 
in  my — my  underwear!" 

"Anne  Peace  took  it  in  a  little,"  she  said,  "but  she 
thought  it  best  not  to  alter  the  style:  the  lines  were 
good,  she  thought " 

"If  Anne  Peace  had  altered  it  I'd  have  whipped  her. 
You  are  perfect,  Gerie:  a  perfect  'Keepsake'!  I 
wouldn't  change  you  for  any  model  on  Fifth  Avenue. 
Where's  Almeria?  I  don't  believe  she's  a  patch  on 
you!" 

"Oh,  my  dear !  Almeria  has  the  Velvet :  you  remem- 
ber the  Velvet,  surely!  You  always  thought  it  ele- 
gant :  Aunt  Vanderscholt,  for  whom  it  was  made,  em- 
ployed the  best  dressmaker  in  New  York,  I  have  al- 
ways understood.  Sister  is  downstairs  in  the  parlor 
with  Father:  so  kind  of  you  and  Kitty  to  help  us  out 
in  this  way.  Kitty  is  in  such  demand  this  evening! 
Would  you  like  to  see  Sister,  Johanna?  She  charged 
me  to  say — she  felt  that  you  would  probably  feel  able 
to  see  only  one  person  at  a  time " 

"Gammon!"  Miss  Johanna's  eyes  twinkled.  "Trot 
her  up,  Gerie,  and  your  father,  too!  Don't  look  like 
that !  I  am  perfectly  proper :  it  won't  hurt  him  to  see 
a  bed  at  his  time  of  life." 

"My  dear  Johanna !"  Miss  Egeria  gasped.  "Not  for 

worlds  would  Father  intrude — a  lady's  chamber " 

127 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


"Mr.  Bygood!"  Miss  Johanna  raised  a  clear,  high- 
pitched  voice.  "Come  up,  won't  you,  and  bring  Almy? 
I  want  to  see  you!" 

Miss  Egeria  faded  away  with  a  little  moan  of  pro- 
test; a  moment  later  entered  Miss  Almeria,  superb 
in  black  velvet,  with  a  magnificent  lace  scarf  on  her  ad- 
mirable shoulders. 

"Ah!"  said  Miss  Johanna  under  her  breath.  "I 
knew  there  was  more  Honiton.  That's  the  flounce!" 

"Good  evening,  Almy!"  she  said  aloud.  "Where's 
your  father?  Oh,  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Bygood?  I 
am  glad  to  see  you !  shake  hands !  Are  you  shocked  ? 
Gerie  was  too  shocked  to  stay  in  the  room.  How  do 
you  like  my  jacket?  You  look  perfectly  lovely!  I'd 
marry  you  to-morrow  if  you'd  ask  me.  Now  I've 
shocked  Almeria!" 

If  Miss  Almeria  was  shocked,  she  knew  better  than 
to  give  Johanna  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  it.  She 
drew  up  a  chair  for  her  father  and  settled  herself  in 
another,  smoothing  her  velvet  skirt  composedly.  Mr. 
Bygood  was  in  a  flutter.  To  be  going  to  a  party  was 
exciting  enough :  to  be  called  suddenly  to  wait  upon  an 
invalid  lady  of  distinction  was  even  more  thrilling. 

"My  dear  Miss  Ross "  he  began,  with  a  trem- 
ulous bow. 

"If  you  call  me  'Miss',  I'll  throw  the  pillow  at  you 
and  spoil  your  lovely  necktie!"  said  the  lady. 

"Oh!  oh! — te-hee!  te-hee!"  tittered  Mr.  Bygood. 

"I  used  to  be  Jo,"  Miss  Ross  went  on ;  and  her  sharp 
eyes  softened.  "Little  naughty  Jo,  coming  to  play 
with  little  proper  Almy  and  little  saintly  Gerie,  and 

128 


The  Party 

getting  them  both  into  hot  water.  Have  you  any 
peppermints  in  your  pocket,  Mr.  Bygood?  How 
many  generations  of  children  have  you  supplied  with 
peppermints,  my  dear  soul?" 

"Well,  Johanna!"  Mr.  Bygood  twinkled;  "several,  I 
suppose;  several!  Yours  was  the  first,  though,  my 
dear.  You  were  a  very  good  child,  a  very  good  child. 
All  my  little  friends  have  been  good  children.  You — 
you — you  look  extremely  well,  Johanna,  for  a — a 
sufferer!  I  trust " 

"I  am  extremely  well!"  said  Miss  Johanna  calmly. 
"Bedridden,  but  well.  Gerie  wanted  me  to  be  carried 
to  the  party  in  my  bed — "  an  agonized  cough  from 
the  hall  announced  that  Miss  Egeria  was  within  hear- 
ing; "at  least  we  spoke  of  it.  Cheer  up,  Gerie!  No- 
body would  lay  it  to  your  door.  'Johanna !  always  pe- 
culiar !'  "  ( She  shot  a  wicked  glance  at  Miss  Almeria, 
who  maintained  her  dignity,  but  could  not  suppress 
her  blush.)  "Can't  you  hear  them  say  it?  But  I've 
decided  not  to  go.  I  really  think  I  am  having  the 
cream  of  the  party  here.  This  was  my  idea,  Almy; 
you  must  allow  I  am  clever,  as  well  as  peculiar.  There's 
some  one  else  coming  in." 

It  was  a  clever  idea;  Madam  Flynt  was  giving  a 
party  for  Kitty  and  me ;  it  was  so  kind  of  her  to  tuck 
me  in !  Of  course  everybody  was  going,  and  as  it  was 
a  snowy  evening  in  early  April,  Kitty  and  John  Tucker 
were  engaged  ten  deep,  to  transport  the  guests.  It 
was  necessary  to  begin  early,  and  at  Miss  Johanna's 
suggestion,  Kitty  had  asked  a  few  special  friends  to 
be  ready  half  an  hour  before  the  time  set  in  the  invi- 

129 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


tations.  These  favored  ones  were  brought  to  Ross 
House,  and  deposited  with  instructions  to  walk  right 
in  (Sarepta  was  at  Madam  Flynt's,  of  course,  help- 
ing Sarah  and  Abby  Ann)  and  make  Aunt  Johanna  a 
call,  and  then  make  themselves  comfy  in  the  parlor 
till  called  for. 

Mr.  Bygood  was  the  only  gentleman  who  went  up- 
stairs, but  the  Chanters  and  several  other  parties  of 
ladies  rustled  up  to  the  Red  Indian  room  and  were 
passed  in  review  by  the  invalid  Arbitress.  Last  of 
all  came  Kitty  herself;  first  rosy  and  breathless,  in 
fur  coat  and  cap,  to  summon  Miss  Johanna's  last 
caller;  then,  half  an  hour  later,  still  rosy,  but  calm 
and  demure,  to  show  herself  to  her  aunt.  I  was  with 
her,  in  what  male  writers  call  "something  white  and 
filmy" ;  I  called  it  chiffon ;  Miss  Johanna  had  forbid- 
den filminess  for  Kitty. 

"When  you've  got  lines,  show  'em!"  was  her  dic- 
tum. How  different  from  Miss  Egeria,  who  was  al- 
ways troubled  if  one  sat  down  without  shaking  out 
one's  skirts  thoroughly.  "My  dear !"  she  would  whis- 
per. "You  show  your  shape!" 

Kitty  had  rummaged  the  ancestral  trunks  in  the  at- 
tic and  had  found  a  thick,  heavy  pale  green  satin, 
over  which  Miss  Johanna  had  waved  the  scissors 
of  a  necromancer,  Miss  Anne  Peace,  as  her  attend- 
ant sprite  (dear,  meek  little  brown  sprite!  she  was  at 
Madam  Flynt's,  too,  "taking  off"  for  the  ladies  up- 
stairs), translating  her  magic  into  terms  of  needle 
and  thread.  The  soft  gleaming  fabric  clung  round  as 
lovely  a  figure,  I  thought,  as  ever  entered  a  ballroom. 

130 


The  Party 

There  was  just  enough  lace  at  the  neck,  not  an  inch 
too  much :  wonderful  Rose  Point.  The  Bygoods  were 
not  the  only  people  who  had  lace,  Miss  Johanna  said 
with  a  friendly  sniff:  and  there  was  the  Beryl  Neck- 
lace, for  which,  the  same  lady  pointed  out,  the  satin 
had  probably  been  woven  and  dyed.  Certainly  they 
were  an  astonishing  match,  and  anything  more  beauti- 
ful than  the  combination  of  necklace  and  gown  and 
Kitty  cannot  possibly  be  imagined.  This  is  not  just 
my  enthusiasm — everybody  said  the  same  thing — ex- 
cept Miss  Johanna;  but  her  nod,  and  "H'm!  you'll 
do!"  was  fully  as  emphatic. 

So  we  went  to  the  Party;  our  Party,  given  for  us! 
two  proud  and  happy  girls. 

Madam  Flynt's  spacious  double  parlors  looked  more 
ample  than  usual  from  the  removal  of  most  of  the 
furniture.  The  tables  were  gone,  the  big  sofa,  all  the 
armchairs  except  Madam  Flynt's  own;  the  Sheraton 
chairs  shrugging  their  shoulders  against  the  wall  took 
up  little  room.  The  Turkey  carpet  was  up,  the  pol- 
ished floor  gleamed  in  the  light  of  numberless  wax 
candles.  Madam  Flynt  sat  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
long  room,  stately  and  handsome  in  lilac  brocade  with 
cascades  of  creamy  Venetian  Point.  (I  seem  to  be 
saying  a  great  deal  about  lace:  I  can't  help  it:  it  is 
one  of  the  pleasantest  things  I  know!)  Kitty  and  I 
stood  by  her,  one  on  either  side ;  Miss  Croly,  her  pur- 
ple alpaca  exchanged  for  a  silk  of  the  same  hue,  hov- 
ered in  the  background,  beaming  welcome  on  the 
guests,  but  casting  an  occasional  anxious  glance  at 
her  friend  and  patroness.  On  her  arm  she  carried 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


a  white  Canton  crape  shawl,  heavily  embroidered,  with 
long-  fringe.  Occasionally  she  would  bend  over  Madam 
Flynt  and  murmur  something,  with  a  gesture  toward 
the  shawl,  but  the  hostess  seemed  unaware  of  her 
existence. 

The  Bygoods  were  the  first  arrivals.  "Father"  must 
have  a  chance  to  see  the  rooms,  and  to  find  a  comfort- 
able seat,  before  the  crowd  came.  Next  came  the 
Messrs.  Jebus,  very  nervous,  very  neat  in  their  claret- 
colored  frock  coats.  Why  did  they  wear  claret-col- 
ored frock  coats  ?  Everybody  in  Cyrus  knows !  Twen- 
ty-five years  ago  Russell  Gaylord  had  had  one  made 
for  a  frolic,  or  a  wager,  I  forget  which;  and  after 
wearing  it  once,  had  given  to  Mr.  Jason.  Even  then, 
the  two  cousins  always  dressed  alike:  Russell  Gay- 
lord  was  the  glass  of  fashion  and  the  mold  of  form; 
Mr.  Josiah  had  the  coat  copied  as  exactly  as  might  be ; 
that  is  all  the  story. 

The  little  gentlemen  had  their  plan  of  campaign 
carefully  laid  out.  They  stepped  through  the  long 
rooms  as  quickly  as  Mr.  Josiah's  lameness  allowed, 
casting  bird-like  glances  around  them ;  they  made  their 
bows  as  Meltiah  Torrence  had  taught  them  in  their 
youth.  "Two  steps  forward,  to  first  position;  bend 
from  the  hips,  bob  from  the  neck,  recover;  two  steps 
back!  Dismiss!"  They  delivered  their  speeches — not 
quite  as  they  intended,  be  it  said. 

"We  congratulate  you,  Madam  Flynt,  on  this  festal 
occasion!"  said  Mr.  Josiah.  "We  thank  you  for  the 
honor  of  your  invitation." 

"We  have  enjoyed  ourselves  extremely,  we  are 
132 


The  Party 

obliged  to  you,"  chimed  in  Mr.  Jason,  "and  we  grate- 
fully take  our  leave." 

Fortunately  neither  gentleman  perceived  that  Mr. 
Jason  had  said  this  instead  of  "We  are  prepared  to 
enjoy  ourselves  extremely,  and  we  gladly  join  the  gay 
circle!"  Madam  Flynt  heard,  understood,  and  appre- 
ciated. Their  acknowledgments  made,  the  Jebusites, 
as  Dr.  Ross  used  to  call  them,  proceeded  to  explore  the 
rooms,  apparently  with  some  special  object  in  view. 
Their  bird-like  glances  flitted  from  side  to  side,  grow- 
ing more  and  more  anxious;  they  began  to  utter  noises 
as  of  mice  in  peril.  Miss  Croly  came  to  the  rescue. 
"The  beautiful  screen,"  she  said,  "has  been  moved  into 
the  hall,  Mr.  Jebuses.  (One  always  addressed  them 
thus!)  Madam  Flynt  feared  that  it  might  inconveni- 
ence— I  would  say  feared  that  the  dancers  might 
injure  it  It  shows  well  in  the  hall !"  she  added  kindly. 
The  partners,  with  sounds  as  of  mice  relieved,  fled  to 
the  hall,  where  the  object  of  their  search  stood  against 
the  wall :  a  tall  screen,  covered  with  exquisite  embroid- 
ery. This  they  considered  with  minute  and  anxious 
care. 

"There  is  less  light  here !"  said  Mr.  Josiah. 

"But  everybody  will  see  it!"  Mr.  Jason  consoled 
him. 

Finally,  they  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  evening 
hovered  about  Mr.  Josiah's  chef  d'aeuvre  and  en- 
joyed themselves,  as  they  had  predicted,  immensely. 

Mr.  Mallow  and  Mr.  Jordano  approached  side  by 
side,  and  were  welcomed  with  dignified  cordiality. 
They  bent  low  before  Madam  Flynt;  they  gave  sepa- 

133 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


rate  and  very  special  bows  to  Kitty  and  me:  hers 
were  the  best,  but  I  was  not  jealous. 

"You've  got  an  elegant  party,  Madam!"  Mr.  Mal- 
low glowed  with  civic  and  neighborly  pride.  "I 
don't  know  as  any  place  but  Cyrus  could  show  such  a 
conjugation  of  pretty  gals  and  handsome  ladies." 

"A  galaxy!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Jordano.  "A  golden 
galaxy!  'They  walk  in  beauty  like  the  night-tite- 
tite — '  the  second  line  escapes  me!  the  poet  Byron! 
Miss  Kitty,  boona  sarah,  as  we  say  in  beautiful  Italy. 
Bella  Italia,  Miss  Kitty!  Bella  Kitterina,  also,  if  an 
old  friend  may  take  the  liberty.  Very  eleganto,  I 
must  say." 

"Grazie  tante,  Signor  Jordano!"  Kitty  smiled  and 
dimpled,  and  sent  Mr.  Jordano  straight  to  the  seventh 
heaven.  He  did  not  follow  the  words,  but  that  did 
not  matter;  he  was  hearing  Italian  spoken  by  lovely 
lips,  and  his  gentle  spirit  soared  ecstatic.  He  stepped 
aside  to  make  room  for  the  Chanter  girls  who  swept 
in,  like  a  white  muslin  billow,  and  after  breaking  in 
curtseys  to  Madam  Flynt,  surged  round  Kitty  and 
me  in  shouting  chorus.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Chanter  came 
next,  beaming  good  will  on  all ;  the  three  boys  brought 
up  the  rear.  Bobby  and  Rodney  had  come  over  from 
their  college  town  on  purpose;  Aristides  was  in  the 
High  School;  all  three  were  in  love  with  Kitty,  in 
varying  degrees  of  intensity,  but  Bobby's  prior  claim 
was  silently  conceded  by  the  other  two.  He  was  the 
eldest;  he  had  the  Dress  Suit  (a  gift  from  a  distant 
uncle  whose  inches  could  no  longer  be  clipped  within 
it) ;  he  was  captain  of  the  college  football  team.  He 

1.34 


The  Party 

had  been  in  love  with  Kitty  as  long  as  he  could  re- 
member. Of  course,  while  Tom  was  "round,"  Bobby 
never  had  any  hope,  not  even  when  his  enchantress 
used  to  call  him  "Pretty  Bobby  Shafto,"  and  sing  a 
little  song,  derisive  but  not  unfriendly,  about  his  be- 
ing fat  and  fair,  which  he  was,  and  about  his  combing 
down  his  yellow  hair,  which  he  might  with  advantage 
have  done  oftener,  and  about  his  going  to  sea,  silver 
buckles  at  his  knee,  which  was  preposterous.  When 
Kitty,  perched  on  top  of  the  fence,  would  trill  in  her 
silver  voice, 

"He'll  come  back  and  marry  me, 
Pretty  Bobby  Shafto !" 

the  boy's  honest  heart  thumped  at  his  ribs,  and  his 
cheeks  grew  redder,  if  that  were  possible.  She  was 
Tommy's  girl;  he  was  perfectly  loyal  to  Tommy;  still 
— but  now  that  Tom  was  gone  and  no  one  -ever  heard 
a  word  from  him,  Bobby  saw  no  reason  why  his  own 
modest  hopes  might  not  soar;  so  soar  they  did. 

Rodney  and  Aristides  (the  latter  a  chronic  sufferer 
from  his  name,  which  he  loathed  equally  in  its  en- 
tirety and  in  its  customary  abbreviation  of  "Sty") 
after  making  their  bows,  waited  cheerfully  for  Bobby 
to  ask  Kitty  for  the  first  dance,  which  he  promptly 
did.  Rodney  was  just  sidling  up  to  claim  the  second 
when  Wilson  Wibird,  leaning  over  Kitty  from  behind, 
laid  a  hand  on  the  dance-card  which  hung  from  her 
fan. 

"The  rest  are  mine,  Katrine!"  he  murmured. 

Kitty,  turning,  spoke  crisply.    "Certainly  not.  Wil- 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


son!  Why  should  they  be?  Did  you  ask  for  the  sec- 
ond, Rodney?  And  you  the  third,  Sty?  I  promised 
Mr.  Jordano  one;  you  can  have  the  fifth,  Wilson,  if 
you  like." 

"If  I  like!  cruel  Katrine!"  murmured  Mr.  Wibird. 
He  folded  his  arms  and  glared  savagely  at  the  three 
Chanters,  who  smiled  cheerfully  at  him  and  said  in 
chorus,  "Hello,  Wilse!  h'are  ye?"  Then  he  retired  to 
the  wall,  where  he  stood,  his  arms  folded  in  a  Napo- 
leonic attitude,  his  brows  bent,  his  eyes  following 
Kitty  as  she  glided  about  the  room. 

Wilson  Wibird  had  made  up  his  mind  to  marry 
Kitty  Ross,  even  before  her  return  from  Europe. 
There  was  no  other  mate  for  him  in  Cyrus,  he  confided 
to  his  one  intimate,  the  greenish  mirror  that  hung  over 
his  dressing  table.  She  was  lovely;  she  was  accom- 
plished ;  she  had  Mind  and  Taste ;  she  could  appreciate 
him,  and  on  her  the  name  of  Wibird  might  be  be- 
stowed without  derogation  from  its  high  descent.  He 
saw  himself  in  fancy — Wilson  lived  largely  in  fancy — 
the  master  of  Ross  House,  welcoming  his  guests  (and 
Kitty's)  with  the  stately  courtesy  of  a  gentleman  of 
the  old  school. 

"Katrine  and  I  bid  you  welcome !"  he  would  say  to 
the  mirror.  "The  simple  comforts  of  our  home  are 
yours  as  long  as  you  care  to  share  them!" 

His  air  was  very  noble,  he  thought,  as  he  waved 
his  guests  in.  Now,  Wilson  was  forced  to  acknowl- 
edge that  up  to  this  time  Kitty  had  shown  little  sense 
of  the  honor  he  proposed  to  do  her.  He  had  met  her 
several  times,  and  walked  with  her  along  the  street, 

136 


The  Party 

but  whenever  he  bestowed  on  her  what  he  called  a 
flower  of  speech,  he  found  that  she  had  an  errand  in 
the  store  they  were  passing.  Sometimes  he  waited 
for  her,  and  she  never  came  out,  being  indeed  well 
acquainted  with  the  back  door  of  every  store  on  the 
street — sometimes  he  "punished"  her  by  stalking  on 
with  bended  brows.  (Wilson  loved  bended  brows; 
he  sometimes  bended  them  so  far  that  his  little  eyes 
could  hardly  be  seen;  but  this  is  by  the  way.)  When 
he  called  in  the  evening,  Kitty  was  apt  to  be  busy  wait- 
ing on  her  aunt,  or  else  those  Chanter  girls  were  there. 
Altogether,  Wilson  felt  that  his  suit  was  not  pros- 
pering as  it  should :  this,  he  told  the  mirror,  must 
cease.  She  would  set  her  will  to  his,  forsooth!  pretty 
birdling!  She  should  see  what  it  meant  to  thwart 
a  man  with  a  chin  like  that.  He  motioned  toward 
his  image.  He  must  assert  himself.  Some  lines  of 
poetry  came  to  his  mind ;  lines  which  he  had  felt,  the 
first  time  he  read  them,  to  describe  himself: 

"He  was  a  strong  man  from  the  north, 
Light-locked,  with  eyes  of  dangerous  gray." 

The  poem  went  on  to  tell  how  the  strong  man  took 
the  lady  in  his  strong  white  arms  and  bore  her  on  his 
horse  away.  It  was  a  fine  poem.  That,  Wilson  felt, 
was  the  attitude  for  him ;  he  had  been  too  gentle,  too 
debonair;  now  she  must  feel  his  power.  He  had 
thought  to  impress  it  upon  her  by  dancing  with  her 
through  the  entire  evening.  He  had  seen  himself 
folding  her  in  his  strong  white  arms  (decently  hid  in 
conventional  black)  floating  through  the  glittering 

137 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


halls  to  the  sound  of  voluptuous  music.  Now  the  mu- 
sic was  sounding;  old  Meltiah  Torrence  scraping  away 
at  his  old  fiddle,  his  son  Jabez  squeaking  on  the  cor- 
net. It  was  our  own,  our  only  "music" ;  we  loved  it, 
but  voluptuous  is  hardly  the  word  for  it.  The  music 
was  sounding,  and  Wilson  Wibird,  instead  of  carry- 
ing out  his  program,  was  standing  against  the  wall 
with  folded  arms  and  bended  brows. 

Mr.  Mallow  saw  him  and  crossed  the  room  to  where 
he  stood.  "Why  ain't  you  dancin',  Wilse?"  he  in- 
quired; and  without  waiting  for  a  reply:  "Go  and 
take  Lissy  out  for  a  turn!  Nobody's  asked  her,  and 
she  admires  dancin'.  Ain't  enough  boys  to  go  round. 
You  go  and  take  her  out !  Oh !  hemp !  nothin'  at  all, 
Very !  nothin'  at  all !" 

Mr.  Jordano,  backing  down  the  room  with  Miss 
Almeria  Bygood,  had  come  to  the  end  of  it  sooner 
than  he  expected,  and  his  heel  had  come  down  with 
some  force  on  Mr.  Mallow's  toe.  Wilson  took  advan- 
tage of  his  uncle's  momentary  anguish  to  slip  away, 
but  he  did  not  take  Melissa  out.  He  folded  his  arms 
and  bended  his  brows  against  another  part  of  the 
wall,  where  Kitty  could  not  fail  to  see  him  as  she 
passed.  It  was  good  Bobby  Chanter  who  took  Melissa 
out ;  I  rather  think  he  would  have  done  it  even  without 
Kitty's  breathless  little,  "Oh,  no,  Bobby;  I  must  stop 
now.  Do  take  out  Melissa,  there's  a  dear!"  Bobby 
was  a  kind  boy,  and  Melissa's  face  had  been  very 
wistful  as  she  watched  the  dancing.  A  pretty  face, 
if  it  could  be  filled  out  a  little;  the  thin  cheeks  were 

138 


The  Party 

flushed  to-night,  and  the  hazel  eyes  sparkled  above  the 
pretty  pink  challis,  Uncle  Marshall's  gift. 

"You  make  it  tasty !"  he  bade  Anne  Peace.  "Make  it 
as  tasty  as  any  of  'em !  put  on  plenty  of  gimp,  or  gal- 
loon, or  whatever  the  style  is.  I  want  Lissy  dressed  as 
nice  as  any  gal  there.  You  make  her  look  like  Venus 
Dimedici,  that  travelin'  man  was  talkin'  about.  He 
said  she  was  great." 

Mr.  Mallow's  rendering  of  the  title  of  Venus  made 
every  i  long.  Miss  Peace  had  her  own  opinion  of 
Venus,  but  reserved  it,  and  promised  to  do  her  best; 
which  she  certainly  had  done. 

People  came  and  came,  and  came.  All  Cyrus,  of 
course,  in  its  shining  best :  Mrs.  Scatter  in  green  pop- 
lin, Miss  Pringle  in  blue;  the  Misses  Caddie  dressed 
alike  in  "that  brown  silk  that  was  so  fashionable  one 
season — don't  you  remember?  And  then  went  out  so 
sudden,  and  Hanks  has  been  trying  to  get  rid  of  the 
piece  ever  since.  He  put  it  down  to  half  price  directly 
Madam  Flynt's  invitations  were  out,  and  the  Caddies 
took  it  and  made  it  up  themselves.  There  was  four 
yards  more  than  the  pattern  called  for,  but  they  took  it 
all,  so  they  could  make  over;  and  then  if  they  didn't 
put  every  scrap  of  it  into  the  skirt  so  'twould  fade 
alike!  They  stand  out  like  penwipers,  don't  they?" 

Thus  Mrs.  Bagley  to  her  husband,  who  said,  "Yes! 
yes!  very  tasty!  very  tasty!"  being  absorbed  in  the 
problem  of  how  much  "Acme  astral"  it  would  take  to 
light  these  rooms,  and  what  possibility  there  might 
be  of  persuading  Madam  Flynt  to  try  it  instead  of 
candles. 

139 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


Tinkham  and  Tupham  came,  in  long  barges:  the 
former  a  little  amused,  a  little  patronizing  as  usual: 
patronizing  not  of  Madam  Flynt,  but  of  Cyrus  in 
general  and  Kitty  in  particular. 

"Drives  a  cab,  or  so  I  understand.  Yes!  a  sad 
come-down  for  an  old  family.  I  understand  the  aunt 
has  come  on  to  give  countenance  to  it :  you  remember 
her;  Johanna  Ross;  always  peculiar!" 

This  attitude,  whispered  in  the  dressing  room  (to 
the  silent  rage  of  Miss  Anne  Peace,  who  longed  to 
stick  into  Tinkham  the  pins  she  drew  from  its  skirts 
and  veils)  rustled  down  the  stairs  and  into  the  draw- 
ing-room, but  appeared  to  evaporate  at  sight  of  Kitty 
and  the  beryl  necklace. 

Tupham  was,  as  usual,  hearty  and  friendly ;  pleased 
at  being  asked,  and  eager  to  "take  in  the  whole  show" 
for  the  benefit  of  those  at  home.  Thus  female  Tup- 
ham  managed  to  slide  an  appraising  thumb  and  finger 
over  Kitty's  satin,  "thick  as  a  board,  my  dear,  and 
soft — well,  there!"  while  male  Tupham  made  a  point 
of  sampling  every  item  of  food  and  drink  with  strict 
impartiality. 

Corona  College  arrived  rather  late,  in  a  somewhat 
superior,  if  not  Tinkhamesque  frame  of  mind.  Madam 
Flynt,  ever  thoughtful,  had  bidden  Bobby  Chanter 
pick  out  ten  nice  boys  for  her,  which  he  had  done  with 
anxious  care.  They  had  had  a  merry  drive  over,  and 
were  under  the  impression  that  they  had  come  partly 
to  please  good  old  Bagpipes  (a  subtle  rendering  of 
Bobby's  name),  partly,  perhaps  unconsciously,  to 

140 


The  Party 

amuse  themselves  with  the  would-be  graces  of  a  rustic 
community. 

A  fragment  of  trialogue,  overheard  near  the  draw- 
ing-room door,  conveys  the  attitude  of  these  young 
gentlemen : 

A.  "Pink  muslin  one  rather  neat:  what?" 

B.  "So-so;  not  too!  blue  one  has  more  go  to  her. 
P'raps  she's  the  lady  cab-driver:  they  have  one  here, 
I'm  told.     Trot  her  out,  what  say?    Put  her  through 
her  paces!" 

C.  "Get  on  to  the  little  thing  with  curls!  She's  quite 
a  daisy.    Think  I  must  give  her  a  turn."  (Thank  you, 
sir!     This  was  my  humble  self.) 

"Jerusalem ! 
A.  B.  C.  in  sudden  trio.    "Great  Scott !    Who  is  that 

"By  George! 
ripping 
perfectly  stunning  girl  in  green?    I  say,  Bobs!  Bags! 

screaming 

Pipes!  CHANTER!  Won't  you  introduce  me?  Oh,  I 
say,  Bobby !  I'm  your  friend !  Don't  go  back  on  me !" 
etc.,  etc.  Thus  Corona  in  frantic  whispers,  plucking 
at  Bobby  Chanter,  who  swelled  in  serene  pride,  and 
was  entirely  kind  to  his  friends,  knowing  Kitty's  next 
dance  to  be  his. 

Kitty  was  kind  to  them  too,  and  gave  them  an  "ex- 
tra" when  she  could,  but  mostly  had  to  meet  their  im- 
passioned pleadings  with  a  smile  and  "So  sorry!  I  am 
engaged,  but  do  let  me  find  you  a  partner !" 

The  collegians  were  nice,  gentlemanly  boys;  we 
all  had  a  delightful  time,  and  I  truly  think  they  did. 

141 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


But  here  I  may  note  a  curious  little  by-product  of  the 
Party.  For  weeks  after,  Corona  College  had  much 
business  to  transact  in  Cyrus.  It  came  by  train,  one 
by  one,  and  was  observed  to  look  eagerly  about  it 
on  arrival,  and  to  make  hurried  inquiry  for  a  cab. 
Confronted  by  John  Tucker,  serenely  yet  critically  ob- 
servant, it  suddenly  decided  it  would  walk,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  stroll  about  the  village,  investigating  the 
shops  and  making  aimless  purchases,  till  the  return 
train.  Corona  rarely  met  Kitty;  the  between-trains 
hour  was  just  when  she  was  taking  Madam  Flynt  for 
her  airing.  Now  and  then,  however,  say  on  a  rainy 
day,  some  happy  youth  would  chance  upon  her,  and 
walk  home  with  her,  and  perhaps  be  asked  in  for  a 
cup  of  tea,  and  return  to  Corona  in  a  state  of  rap- 
turous distraction  very  trying  to  his  mates  who  had 
been  dutifully  practising  football. 

But  here  is  a  long  digression :  let  us  hurry  back  to 
the  Party. 

Among  the  revolving  couples,  none  attracted  more 
attention  than  Miss  Almeria  and  Mr.  Jordano,  al- 
ready mentioned.  They  danced  the  Boston  Dip,  sel- 
dom seen  in  these  degenerate  days.  It  is  a  slow, 
graceful  waltz,  very  becoming  to  tall  figures  and 
sweeping  velvet  skirts.  Mr.  Jordano  held  his  chin  high ; 
his  eyes  were  nearly  closed,  a  narrow  slit  only  en- 
abling him  to  pilot  his  partner  safely  through  the 
dance;  his  expression,  which  totally  belied  him,  was 
one  of  haughty  arrogance.  His  lips  moved  constantly ; 
one  would  have  supposed  he  was  murmuring  caustic 
comments  on  the  other  dancers;  instead,  he  was  say- 

142 


The  Party 

ing,  "One,  two,  three,  one,  two,  three!"  in  time,  if 
not  in  tune,  with  the  music.  Miss  Almeria's  glossy 
braids  bent  gracefully  over  her  partner's  shoulder: 
her  look  was  benign;  she  wore  a  slight,  indulgent 
smile,  as  who  should  say,  "Dancing  is  not  what  it 
was,  but  perhaps  it  is  well  for  people  to  see  occasionally 
what  it  can  be." 

Madam  Flynt  was  enjoying  her  party  immensely. 
Her  eyes  followed  the  dancers  continuously.  Kitty, 
of  course,  was  the  most  delightful  person  to  watch, 
but  they  all  looked  happy,  and  youth  was  not  every- 
thing. Almeria  held  her  own  as  well  as  anybody, 
and  Egeria  was  hardly  less  graceful.  Now  if  Johanna 
Ross  hadn't  a  bee  in  her  bonnet,  she  might  be  danc- 
ing with  Edward  Peters.  She  did  not  suggest  this  to 
the  Judge,  who  was  sitting  beside  her;  she  received  his 
congratulations  amiably.  She  was  glad  he  thought  it 
a  pretty  party ;  yes,  the  rooms  did  light  up  well.  Peo- 
ple with  good  rooms  had  a  responsibility  to  Society — 
Madam  Flynt  leaned  nearer  the  Judge,  and  her  voice 
dropped. 

"Of  course,  Edward,  in  a  City,  one  might  have 
thought — it  might  not  have  seemed  proper  to  give 
Kitty  a  party  so  soon  after — you  understand!  But 
everybody  in  Cyrus  knows  just  how  it  is ;  and  her  not 
wearing  black  and  all ;  but — well,  if  you  must  know,  it 
was  the  Doctor  made  me  do  it." 

"Dr.  Petti  John?"  naming  the  Tinkham  practitioner 
who  had  ministered  to  Cyrus'  few  ailments  since  Dr. 
Ross's  death. 

"No!  no!  our  own  Doctor — Dr.  Ross,  of  course! 
143 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


I  don't  mean — I  am  no  spiritualist,  Edward,  if  that 
is  why  you  are  raising  your  left  eyebrow!" 

Judge  Peters  blushed  and  lowered  the  eyebrow. 

"But  it  really  is  curious.  Let  me  tell  you !  Several 
years  ago,  a  young  cousin  came  to  visit  me:  Selina 
Hazelton :  you  may  remember  her.  Her  father  had 
been  ill,  she  may  have  had  troubles  of  her  own;  in 
fact — but  you  shall  hear.  Anyhow,  she  drooped  and 
drooped.  I  couldn't  make  her  eat,  and  she  didn't 
seem  to  care  for  anything;  dreadful  state  she  was  in, 
and  getting  worse.  So  I  sent  for  Dr.  Ross,  and  he 
looked  her  over.  Then  I  sent  her  out  on  an  errand, 
and  asked  what  he  would  advise.  Would  he  give  her 
a  tonic?  'Give  her  a  dance!'  he  said.  'Why  Doctor!' 
I  said.  'She  can  hardly  walk,  much  less  dance.  Just 
to  cross  the  street  seems  to  tire  her  out.  /  think  iron 
and  wine  is  what  she  needs.'  I  always  told  him  what 
I  thought;  he  called  me  his  consulting  physician,  you 
know :  dear  Doctor !  Well,  he  said  again,  'Give  her  a 
dance!'  insisted  on  it,  saying  he  got  the  idea  out  of 
Charles  Reade.  You  know  he  was  daft  about  Charles 
Reade.  Well,  my  dear — friend,  I  did  give  her  a  dance. 
Invited  all  the  college  boys  I  knew ;  and  they  all  came, 
and  one  beside.  Georgie  Hathaway  asked  if  he  might 
bring  a  friend,  and  I  said  yes,  of  course.  Friend 
came;  nice-looking  lad;  Porter,  his  name  was.  Well, 
when  I  saw  the  color  he  and  Selina  went,  one  white, 
the  other  greenish-purple,  I  knew  what  had  been  the 
matter  with  the  child.  They  danced  every  dance  to- 
gether but  two,  and  those  they  sat  out  on  the  woodbox 
in  the  upper  hall.  And  I  giving  the  party  for  her! 

144 


The  Party 

Next  day  they  were  engaged — I  was  so  surprised,  of 
course!  In  two  months  they  were  married,  and  now 
they  have  three  children  and  are  as  happy  as  June 
crickets.  Well !  so — now  I  come  to  the  curious  thing. 
You  know  how  gay  Kitty  is — a  gallant  kind  of  gayety 
that  makes  me  cry  sometimes !" 

The  Judge  nodded.  Kitty  passed  at  that  moment, 
dancing  with  Mr.  Mallow,  who  handed  her  about  as 
if  she  were  a  cream  tart  on  a  gold  dish.  The  Judge's 
eyes  rested  very  tenderly  on  the  girl. 

"Well!"  Madam  Flynt  bent  still  nearer  till  her 
lilac  cap  ribbons  touched  the  Judge's  fine  gray  hair. 
"I  was  thinking  about  her  one  evening,  about  ten  days 
ago;  and  all  of  a  sudden  I  seemed  to  hear  Doctor 
speaking,  as  plain  as  I  hear  you  to-night.  'Give  her  a 
dance!'  he  said.  'Give  her  a  dance!'  Now  I  am  no 
spiritualist,  Edward,  but — what  do  you  want,  Cornelia 
Croly?  I  have  told  you  that  I  will  not  be  hovered 
over.  You  may  be  a  hen  turkey,  but  I  am  not — what 
is  it?" 

Miss  Croly  set  her  thin  lips  and  advanced  with  a 
look  of  humble  resolution.  "Clarissa,"  she  said  firmly, 
"there  is  a  draught!"  and  she  folded  the  crape  shawl 
round  Madam  Flynt' s  ample  shoulders.  Madam 
Flynt  is  a  large  woman,  usually  deliberate  in  her 
movements;  but  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  the  shawl 
was  whisked  off,  rolled  in  a  ball,  and  handed  to  Judge 
Peters. 

"Put  that  under  my  chair,  will  you,  Edward  ?"  said 
the  lady.  "Well  under,  so  that  nobody  can  get  at  it. 

145 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


Cornelia,  I  shall  be  obliged  if  you  will  go  and  see  about 
supper.  Time  it  was  announced!" 

Madam  Flynt's  supper  ought  to  have  a  whole  chap- 
ter to  itself,  but  that  may  not  be.  It  was  a  wonder- 
ful and  delightful  supper,  and  never  was  feast  more 
thoroughly  enjoyed.  Kitty  and  I  sat  with  the  Chan- 
ters ;  such  a  merry  time  as  we  had !  Sarepta  had  made 
the  chicken  salad,  Sarah  the  croquettes,  Abby  Ann  the 
coffee  and  rolls:  as  for  the  ice-cream,  Bobby  insisted 
that  all  the  good  fairies  in  the  Fairy  Book  must  have 
taken  a  turn  at  it ;  it  was  too  good  to  be  the  work  of 
earthly  hands.  Bobby  glowed  till  you  could  have 
warmed  your  hands  at  him.  His  radiance  was  not 
lessened  by  the  sight  of  Wilson  Wibird  glowering 
across  the  room. 

"Poor  Wilse !"  he  chuckled.  "Supper  doesn't  seem 
to  agree  with  him !  Gee !  it  does  with  me,  though !  This 
salad  suits  my  complaint  first-rate :  I  wouldn't  wonder 
but  I  got  well  now.  Let  me  get  you  some  more, 
Kitty!" 

Kitty's  kind  heart  smote  her  a  little  at  sight  of 
Wilson's  tragic  face.  Had  she  been  too  horrid  to  him  ? 
She  was  almost  sorry  she  hadn't  another  dance,  though 
it  was  odious  to  be  held  so  tight,  and  he  would  bump 
into  one  with  his  knees. 

There  were  no  more  dances  for  Kitty  that  night. 
Her  own  party  though  it  was,  she  had  firmly  refused 
to  let  it  interfere  with  business.  Directly  after  supper 
she  slipped  away,  after  a  whisper  in  Madam  Flynt's 
ear  that  brought  the  tears  to  the  good  lady's  eyes, 
and  made  her  even  speak  mildly  wrhen  Miss  Croly 

146 


The  Party 

thought  more  ice-cream  would  not  be  good  for  her. 

"I  can  get  it  myself,  Cornelia,"  she  said,  "if  you 
don't  feel  equal  to  the  exertion.  Or  here  is  Mr.  Jor- 
dano.  Mr.  Jordano,  will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  bring 
me  some  more  ice-cream?  Thank  you!  on  the  whole 
I'll  have  frozen  pudding!" 

Kitty,  I  say,  slipped  away,  and  in  twenty  minutes 
was  back  in  her  fur  coat  and  cap,  nodding  brightly  to 
the  first  departing  guests.  These  were  the  Bygoods, 
who  feared  Father  had  already  been  up  too  long  be- 
yond his  usual  time;  it  was  long  since  he  had  passed 
so  delightful  an  evening. 

"  'The  gay,  the  gay  and  festive  throng, 
The  halls,  the  halls  of  dazzling  light !' " 

he  quoted  happily. 

"But  you  never  asked  me  to  dance,  Mr.  Bygood!" 
said  Kitty.  "If  you  had  asked  me  for  the  reel,  I'd 
have  stayed!" 

"Oh!  oh,  te-hee!  te-hee!"  quavered  Mr.  Bygood. 
"I  fear  I  might  have  reeled  more  than  I  should,  Kitty, 
— though  sober,  my  dear,  though  sober!  New  cider 
never  hurt  any  one,  and  our  amiable  hostess  assured 
me  it  was  not  twenty-four  hours  old." 

Where  had  Wilson  Wibird  got  hold  of  something 
stronger  than  new  cider?  Not  at  Madam  Flynt's,  cer- 
tainly ;  yet  this  is  what  Kitty  told  me  next  day.  Com- 
ing back  from  her  last  trip,  at  her  own  corner  she 
came  upon  Wilson  standing  on  the  curbstone  balanc- 
ing himself  and  looking  very  forlorn.  He  called  to 
her.  He  had  lost  his  overshoes,  and  the  snow  was 

147 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


deep.  "Could  you  give  me  a  lift,  Katrine?"  he  asked 
plaintively,  the  conqueror  in  him  subdued  by  wet  feet, 
which  he  hated  as  a  cat  does. 

"If  you'll  promise  not  to  call  me  'Katrine' !"  was  on 
Kitty's  lips;  but  she  checked  herself.  She  had  been 
horrid  to  him ;  at  her  own  party,  too,  when  she  ought 
to  have  been  nice  to  everybody.  "Weedy,  seedy, 
needy — "  "Think  shame  of  yourself !"  said  Kitty  to 
Kitty.  Then  aloud,  "Very  well,  Wilson !  I'll  take  you, 
though  it's  pretty  late.  Jump  in!" 

The  weather  had  cleared,  and  the  night  was  so 
glorious  that  for  the  latest  guests,  all  young  and  vig- 
orous, Kitty  had  insisted  on  shifting  over  to  Pilot 
and  the  open  sleigh,  and  sending  John  Tucker  home 
to  his  Mary,  who  had  chosen  this  evening  to  have  a 
"spell."  Pilot  thought  it  was  time  for  a  warm  mash 
and  bed;  he  sped  swiftly  through  the  white  silent 
streets,  where  only  an  upper  window  here  and  there 
twinkled  its  assurance  that  the  event  of  the  season 
was  over.  The  Wibirds  lived  at  the  other  end  of  the 
village;  Mrs.  Wibird  and  Melissa  had  been  among 
the  early  departures  in  the  warm  hooded  sleigh  be- 
hind Dan. 

Seated  beside  Kitty,  wrapped  in  the  same  fur  robe, 
Wilson  felt  the  strong  man  from  the  north  revive 
within  him.  The  keen  frosty  air  went  to  his  head ; 
or  had  something  else  gone  there  before?  When 
Kitty,  wishing  to  be  kind  to  this  forlornity,  turned 
to  him  with  "Hasn't  it  been  a  delightful  evening,  Wil- 
son?" she  was  met  by  a  burning  glance  (again,  she 
would  have  called  it  a  leer!)  and  a  husky  voice  ex- 

148 


The  Party 

claiming,  "Now,  this  moment,  the  evening  begins! 
Katrine !  my  hour  dawns !" 

"Don't  be  silly,  Wilson !"  she  said  curtly,  but  Wil- 
son swept  on, 

"You  are  beside  me.  I  feel  your  presence,  your 
gaze  intoss-toxicates,  Katrine!  Together,  thus,  let  us 
speed  on  through  the  night" 

"Kitty!"  I  cried,  "you  frighten  me!  What  did  you 
do?" 

"My  dear,  it  was  perfectly  simple.  You  know  there 
is  rather  a  sharp  corner  at  the  end  of  the  street?  We 
were  near  it.  I  cut  it  a  little  sharper,  that's  all.  Up 
went  one  runner,  out  went  Master  Wilson  into  a  nice 
soft  drift.  I  was  sorry  to  lower  Pilot's  opinion  of  my 
driving,  but  it  was  really  the  only  thing  to  do.  But 
that  is  the  last  time  I  shall  be  sorry  for  Wilson  Wi- 
bird.  Odious  little  atomy !" 

Which  shows  that  even  strong  men  from  the  north 
do  not  always  see  themselves  as  others  see  them. 


CHAPTER  XI 

ON  THE  RIALTO 

CYRUS  rises  early  as  a  rule,  though  the  defini- 
tion of  the  adverb  varies.     Six  is  my  hour; 
I  hold  it  a  good  one,  winter  and  summer.  But 
if  I  have  ever  mentioned  this  to  City  friends  who  get 
up  at  eight,  with  the  purring  contentment  that  early 
risers  feel  and  that  late  risers  scorn,  I  do  so  no  more, 
since  hearing  the  following  fragment  of  dialogue  be- 
tween two  Cyrus  women : 

Mrs.  A.:  "What  time  did  it  happen?" 
Mrs.  B. :  "Oh !  we  was  all  up.     'Twas  four  or  five 
o'clock ;  'twas  late !" 

Collective  Cyrus,  that  part  of  it  at  least  that  went 
to  Madam  Flynt's  party,  allowed  itself  an  extra  half 
hour  the  following  morning;  all  but  two  people.  With 
the  earliest  morning  red,  Mrs.  Sharpe  and  Cissy  leaped 
from  their  beds,  prepared  and  swallowed  a  hasty 
breakfast,  flung  on  their  "things,"  and  rushed  out  into 
the  street.  They  wasted  no  time  in  speech  beyond 
a  few  exclamatory  remarks  while  dressing.  No 
words  were  needed  between  them:  they  knew  what 
they  knew.  Behooved  that  the  World  should  know. 
In  the  street  they  separated,  one  going  north,  one 


On  the  Rialto 


south.  Since  we  cannot  follow  both,  let  us  take  the 
mother. 

The  first  person  Mrs.  Sharpe  met  was  Jim  Ruff,  the 
one-armed  milkman,  whistling  his  way  cheerily  along. 
Jim  was  born  with  one  arm,  and  never  could  for  the 
life  of  him  see  what  folks  wanted  of  two.  In  his  off 
hours  he  was  a  nurse,  and  in  great  demand  among 
old  gentlemen  of  rheumatic  tendencies  who  liked  to 
have  "a  rub  and  a  lift"  at  bed-time.  Mrs.  Sharpe 
leapt  into  the  roadway,  beckoning:  Jim  checked  his 
horse. 

"Good  morning,  Jim!  Only  a  pint  this  morning, 
please;  we've  had  breakfast.  Leave  it  inside  the  storm 
door,  will  you?  Have  you  heard  the  news?" 

"Not  a  word !"  Jim  leaned  over  the  dasher  sociably. 
"Nice  party,  was  it?  The  cream  was  all  right  any- 
way, I  bet!" 

"Very  nice!  very  nice!"  Mrs.  Sharpe  waved  the 
cream  away  hastily.  "But  what  is  the  outcome,  I 
ask  you?  What  comes  of  dancing  and  jigging  and 
feasting?  Destruction!  Kitty  Ross  has  eloped  with  Wil- 
son Wibird!" 

"What!"  People  did  not,  as  a  rule,  pay  much  at- 
tention to  Mrs.  Sharpe,  but  the  milkman  was  startled 
out  of  his  usual  calm. 

"What  you  say,  Mis'  Sharpe?" 

"They  have  eloped!"  she  repeated.  "Kitty  Ross 
and  Wilson  Wibird!  I  saw  them  with  these  eyes. 
Isn't  it  awful?  What  did  I  always  say?  But  I  won't 
keep  you,  Jim !" 

She  waved  her  hand  as  if  stricken  speechless;  in 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


reality,  she  had  spied  Mr.  Cheeseman,  stumping  along 
to  take  down  his  shutters  and  open  shop.  Him  she 
attacked  with  such  suddenness  that  he  almost  dropped 
his  pipe. 

"Let  me  prepare  you  for  a  shock!"  cried  the  lady. 
"You  are  an  aged  man,  Mr.  Cheeseman,  and  your 
nerves  are  easy  shook.  What  I  have  to  tell  might 
strike  an  aged  person  into  palsy,  I  wouldn't  wonder. 
There  has  been  an  elopement  in  Cyrus !  a  wicked,  ter- 
rible elopement !  Oh !  what  I  say  is,  shall  we  ever  hold 
up  our  heads  again?  When  I  think  of  what  Tink- 
ham  will  say!" 

(Mrs.  Sharpe  came  from  Tinkham;  we  were  too 
polite  as  a  rule  to  say  that  that  accounted  for  her.) 

"I  don't  know  what  Tinkham  will  say,"  snapped 
Mr.  Cheeseman,  "nor  I  don't  care.  Cyrus  will  most 
likely  say  it  ain't  so.  Who's  eloped,  I'd  like  to  know !" 

"Kitty  Ross  and  Wilson  Wibird !"  The  lady's  thin 
neck  shot  forward,  serpent-wise,  as  she  hissed  out  the 
names.  Mr.  Cheeseman  received  the  shock  calmly. 

"Don't  believe  a  word  of  it!"  he  said. 

"You  don't !  You  don't  believe  the  witness  of  these 
eyes?  I  tell  you  I  saw  them,  the  two  of  them,  after 
midnight,  in  a  sleigh,  dashing  through  Cyrus  Street, 
like — like  flames  of  fire.  The  hoss  was  gallopin': 
they  was  fairly  rushin'  to  their  doom.  Don't  say  you 
don't  believe  me,  Mr.  Cheeseman,  because  sight  is 
sight,  and  I  am  not  blind." 

"No,  nor  dumb!"  Mr.  Cheeseman  was  not  a  pa- 
tient man.  "Likely  the  hoss  got  roused  up,  waitin' 
in  the  cold.  I  always  tell  Kitty  she  drives  too  tar- 

152 


On  the  Rialto 


nal  fast.  Wish  you  good  mornin',  Mis'  Sharpe." 
And  he  stumped  on,  resuming  his  interrupted  pipe  in 
short,  irritated  puffs. 

Mrs.  Sharpe  looked  after  him  with  a  snort,  half 
pitying,  half  contemptuous,  and  sped  on  her  way.  By 
this  time  the  male  part  of  Cyrus  was  trooping  down 
to  business.  In  half  an  hour  every  man  in  the  street 
had  heard  with  varying  emotions  that  Kitty  Ross  had 
eloped  with  Wilson  Wibird.  I  don't  know  that  any- 
body exactly  believed  it;  at  least,  no  one  was  found 
who  confessed  afterward  to  having  done  so,  but  the 
Street  certainly  had  an  uncomfortable  half  hour  till 
the  counter  report  reached  it;  namely,  that  Wilson 
Wibird  was  lying  in  his  bed,  wounded  and  bleeding 
from  a  frightful  accident  with  one  of  them  wild  hosses 
of  Kitty  Ross's.  He  had  been  hove  out,  and  the  hoss 
had  gone  off  at  a  tearing  gallop,  and  where  Kitty  was 
this  minute  no  human  being  prob'ly  knew.  Likely  she 
had  been  dragged  to  her  death,  and  they  would  track 
her  by  the  blood 

You  see,  Cissy  had  gone  straight  to  the  Wibirds', 
secretly  determined  for  once  to  "get  ahead  of 
Mumma."  Mrs.  Wibird  had  been  naturally  perturbed 
at  seeing  her  son  "hove  out"  (it  was  at  their  own  cor- 
ner that  the  incident  occurred)  and  at  his  stumbling 
into  the  house  some  minutes  later,  bleeding  profusely, 
and  in  a  savage  humor.  It  was  no  wonder  perhaps 
that  she  made  the  most  of  what  she  had  seen,  but  she 
ought  to  have  made  it  clear,  as  Melissa  did  after- 
ward, that  Wilson's  bleeding  was  from  the  nose. 
The  two  reports  met  at  Bygood's,  like  the  two  halves 

153 


of  a  chemical  formula.  The  gentlemen  had  just  come 
in  for  their  morning  papers,  and  it  seethed  end  bub- 
bled around  them.  Judge  Peters  said  "Pish!"  Mr. 
Mallow  said  "Bosh!"  Mr.  Jordano  waved  his  note- 
book in  a  composite  frenzy  of  anxiety,  incredulity 
and  professional  excitement,  and  murmured  unintel- 
ligible sounds  ending  in  "O".  Italian,  he  always  main- 
tained, was  the  natural  language  of  the  emotions.  The 
result  of  all  this  was  that  by  eleven  o'clock  ("Earlier 
than  that  would  not  be  decent,  sir!  not  decent,  after  a 
party !  The  child  is  probably  in  bed,  and  the  best  place 
for  her!"  thus  Judge  Peters,  very  erect  over  his 
black  satin  stock),  by  eleven  o'clock,  I  say,  the  Judge 
and  Mr.  Mallow  were  posting  up  the  hill  toward 
Ross  House.  Wholly  improbable  that  anything  was 
out  of  the  way;  those  women  ought  to  get  thirty  days, 
sir,  and  learn  to  govern  their  tongues!  But  if  there 
were  anything,  these  two,  as  old  family  friends,  were 
manifestly  the  ones  to  look  into  it. 

"We'll  let  you  know,  Very,"  said  Mr.  Mallow 
kindly,  "if  there's  anything  for  you  in  it." 

Mr.  Jordano,  still  waving  his  notebook,  thanked 
him,  fervently,  and  turned  to  minister  to  Mr.  Bygood, 
to  whom  the  effervescence  had  penetrated,  causing 
him  great  alarm.  The  ladies  had  not  yet  appeared: 
Mr.  Jordano  hovered  about  the  old  gentleman,  ad- 
juring him  to  be  calm  and  murmuring,  "No  periloso! 
no  dangeroso!  Cheer  up-pup-pup,  my  venerable 
friend;  all  will  be  right-tite-tite !"  in  a  manner  equally 
agitated  and  agitating. 

The  Judge  and  "the  Mine  Host,"  as  the  Centinel 

154 


On  the  Rial  to 


loved  to  call  him,  were  not  the  first  callers  at  Ross 
House.  Bobby  Chanter,  speeding  down  the  hill  to  his 
morning  train,  m^et  Cissy's  half  of  the  chemical  for- 
mula on  the  way;  threw  Education  to  the  dogs,  and 
sped  back  up  the  hill  at  a  rate  that  brought  him  to 
Ross  House  crimson  and  breathless.  His  furious  ring 
producing  Sarepta  Darwin  in  a  state  of  high  tension, 
he  could  only  gape  at  her,  and  gasp,  "All  right?" 

Now  this  was  no  morning  to  gape  at  Sarepta.  In 
the  first  place,  she  had  slaved  like  three  niggers,  as 
she  expressed  it,  the  day  before,  had  got  to  bed  long 
after  midnight,  and  been  kept  awake  long  after  that, 
recalling  the  way  Kitty  had  looked  and  the  way  "the 
folks"  had  looked  at  her.  In  the  second  place,  she 
had  already  been  bothered  enough  by  Jim  Ruff,  who 
had  no  business  that  she  knew  of  to  inquire  minutely 
into  the  state  of  Kitty's  health,  wanting  to  know  if 
Sarepta  had  seen  her  this  morning,  and  what  time  she 
got  home.  He  got  a  flea  in  his  ear  all  right,  Sarepta 
reflected  comfortably;  now  she  was  fully  ready  for 
the  next  intruder. 

"All  right?"  she  said  with  acerbity.  "All  wrong,  I 
should  say,  from  the  looks  of  you!  Ain't  you 
ashamed,  Bobby  Chanter,  at  this  time  in  the  morning  ? 
Go  home  and  tell  your  Pa,  and  see  what  he'll  say  to 
you!  The  idea!  You're  a  disgrace!" 

She  was  shutting  the  door,  but  Bobby  was  not  a 
football  player  for  nothing.  An  adroit  foot  checked 
the  door  in  its  closing,  and  the  next  moment  a  broad 
shoulder  pressed  through  the  opening,  followed  by  the 
whole  person  of  a  very  vigorous  young  man.  Bobby 

155 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


shut  the  door  and  stood  against  it:  he  had  got  his 
breath  by  this  time ;  also,  it  was  evident  from  Sarepta's 
aspect  that  no  disaster  had  come  to  the  house. 

"Don't  be  crusty,  Sarepta!"  he  said  coaxingly. 
"Tell  me  how  Kitty  is  after  the  party!  There's  noth- 
ing the  matter  with  me!"  he  added,  "and  I'm  your 
friend,  you  know,  Sarepta!  I  always  was." 

Sarepta's  iron  face  relaxed:  it  was  true.  With 
the  sole  exception  of  Kitty,  she  thought  little  of  girls, 
had  been  heard  to  say  that  she  wouldn't  be  bothered 
raisin'  'em :  but  she  liked  a  good-looking  boy,  and 
Bobby  was  undeniably  good-looking.  Before  she  could 
speak,  however,  a  clear  voice  sounded  from  the  stair- 
way. 

"How  Kitty  is?  Very  well,  I  thank  you,  Bobby 
Shafto!"  and  there  was  Kitty  herself  coming  down- 
stairs, so  distractingly  pretty  in  her  brown  corduroy 
suit  that  Bobby's  feelings  flew  "all  ways  to  once't," 
like  Huldy's  in  "The  Courtin'."  She  was  too  adora- 
ble? Bobby  wanted  to  go  down  on  his  knees  then 
and  there,  among  the  walking-sticks  and  the  Christ- 
mas greens,  and  cry  out  that  she  was  his  queen,  and 
that  he  would  rather  be  under  her  little  lovely  feet 
than  on  a  king's  throne.  But  Bobby  was  twenty-three 
years  old  and  a  senior  at  Corona  College. 

"All  right,  are  you,  Kitty?"  he  asked.  "I— I 
thought  I'd  just  inquire  as  I  went  to  the  train." 

"Bobby!  the  train  has  gone!  I  heard  it  whistle 
just  as  you  rang  the  bell.  Won't  you  catch  it  from 
the  dean?  Come  into  the  sitting-room!" 

Muttering  that  he  couldn't  stop,  Bobby  came  in; 

156 


On  the  Rial  to 


would  not  sit  down,  but  leaned  against  the  door  with 
an  air  of  elaborate  detachment. 

"Got  home  all  right,  Kitty?  It  was  mean  of  you 
not  to  let  me  see  you  home." 

"Don't  you  think  I  had  earned  a  little  solitude, 
Bobby?  I  didn't  get  it  though!"  Kitty's  eyes  twin- 
kled. 

"What  do  you  mean?  We  were  the  last  load,  you 
said." 

"Yes,  you  were!  but  I  met  Wilson,  and  he  had  lost 
his  rubbers,  and  looked  so  forlorn,  I  had  to  take  him 
home,  Bobby,  when  he  asked  me." 

"He  didn't!"  Bobby's  cheek  flushed.  "The  im- 
pudent shrimp!" 

"Impudent  shrimpudent !"  said  Kitty,  and  then  re- 
membered that  she  had  never  played  rhymes  with 
Bobby. 

"I — I  didn't  take  him  quite  all  the  way!"  she  began, 
and  then  broke  into  a  peal  of  laughter  so  clear  and 
joyous  that  Sarepta  had  to  make  a  special  errand — 
a  stick  of  wood,  it  was,  which  the  fire  did  not  need — 
to  see  what  was  up. 

"Glad  you  didn't !  of  all  the  cheek  I  ever  heard  of ! 
I  wish  I'd  been  there.  How  did  you  get  rid  of  him, 
Kitty?" 

"Why — I  ought  not  to  tell,  Bobby.  Promise  never 
to  tell  anybody!  Promise,  Sarepta!  Well — Wilson 
felt  a  little  sentimental  after  the  party  and  all,  and  I — 
I — tipped  him  out,  going  round  the  corner !" 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!"  roared  Bobby  Shafto. 
157 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


"He !  he !  he !"  tittered  Sarepta,  and  fled,  her  bread 
being  in  the  oven. 

Kitty  held  out  her  hands  with  a  sudden  gesture, 
Bobby  grasped  them,  and  the  two  danced  up  and 
down,  holding  hands  and  laughing  like  two  children. 
Kitty  ought  to  have  known  better.  There  are  so 
many  psycho-chemical  formulae;  they  combine  so 
easily,  especially  with  certain  cardiac  conditions.  She 
knew  perfectly  well  that  Bobby  had  been  sighing  and 
looking  and  sighing  again,  ever  since  she  came  back. 
I  am  afraid  she  was  rather  used  to  sighs  and  looks. 
She  had  spoken  casually  of  "people"  in  Switzerland 
and  Italy  who  had  been  "rather  foolish."  She  knew, 
or  she  ought  to  have  known,  that  it  was  one  thing  to 
dance  with  a  lad  at  the  party,  one  revolving  unit 
among  many,  and  a  wholly  different  thing  to  take 
hands  with  that  lad  and  dance  child-fashion,  just  the 
two  of  them  in  all  the  world.  What  wonder  that 
poor  Bobby  Shafto  was  swept  out  to  sea  in  good 
earnest?  He  could  not  know  that  the  girl  was  not 
really  thinking  of  him  at  all,  that  she  was  dancing 
with  Tommy  Lee,  as  she  always  had  danced,  ever 
since  she  could  toddle. 

Kitty  saw  the  look  in  Bobby's  eyes,  and  a  cold  wave 
swept  over  her.  She  would  have  withdrawn  her 
hands,  but  Bobby  held  them  tight. 

"Kitty!"     The  laughter  died  out  of  his  rosy  face. 

"Kitty,  dear!" 

"Yes,  Bobby !  we  must  stop  now,  and  you  must  run 
along;  I  have  my  housekeeping  to  see  to." 

158 


On  the  Rialto 


"Kitty,  dear!  wait  just  a  minute.  I — I  want — I 
wish  I  might  hold  these  little  hands  all  the  time  !" 

Kitty  tried  to  laugh.  "Can't  be  done,  Bobby,"  she 
said,  "it  would  interfere  with  my  driving.  Let  me  go, 
please,  there's  a  good  Bobby  Shafto!" 

But  Bobby  could  not  be  stopped  now.  "I  must 
tell  you!"  he  cried.  "I  have  to!  I  love  you  so,  Kitty, 
I  can't  think  of  anything  else.  And  it  isn't  all  selfish- 
ness, dear.  I  want  to  take  care  of  you.  I  won't  have 
you  exposed  to  insults  from!  a  miserable  chump  like 
Wilson  Wibird.  I  shall  be  out  of  college  next  year, 
Kitty,  and  I  have  a  good  job  promised  me ;  won't  you 
— won't  you  let  me  take  care  of  you,  my  dear  ?" 

Kitty  was  grave  enough  now.  Her  gray  eyes  were 
full  of  tender  kindness,  as  they  looked  straight  into 
the  boy's  burning  blue  ones;  but  at  that  kind  look,  the 
cold  wave  swept  over  him,  too. 

"Dear  Bobby!  dear,  good  friend!  no!  it  can  never, 
never  be.  No !  don't  say  any  more.  Let  me  go,  please, 
my  dear!" 

He  dropped  her  hands,  and  turned  away  with  a  lit- 
tle broken  sound.  It  was  not  quite  a  sob,  but  it  went 
straight  to  Kitty's  heart.  Cruel,  wicked  girl  that  she 
had  been!  This  was  her  friend,  Tommy's  friend, 
from  petticoat-days.  Was  this  the  best  she  could  do 
for  him? 

"Bobby,"  she  said  quietly,  "come  into  the  sitting- 
room  a  minute !  I  have  something  to  say  to  you." 

Bobby  followed  her  mutely,  with  hanging  head. 
She  beckoned  him  to  a  seat  beside  her  on  the  leather 

159 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


sofa.  She  was  trembling,  but  she  managed  with  an 
effort  to  steady  her  voice. 

"We  have  been  friends  all  our  lives,  Bobby!"  she 
said.  "I  am  going  to  be  honest  with  you;  it  is  the 
least  thing  I  can  do,  and  the  only  thing.  If  you  think 
a  little,  Bobby  Shafto,  perhaps — you  will  see  why  I 
cannot — cannot  care  in  the  way  you  mean,  my  poor- 
est Bobby.  Think  back  a  little!  There — there  used 
to  be  three  of  us;  don't  you  remember?" 

Her  voice  sank  almost  to  a  whisper,  but  her  eyes 
were  brave  and  honest.  Bobby  looked  into  them :  then 
he  hung  his  head:  the  comely  red  ebbed  out  of  his 
face,  leaving  it  very  pale. 

"I — I  wouldn't  have  spoken  at  all  if  he  had  been 
here!"  he  muttered.  "Of  course  I  wouldn't!  but ' 

"I  know  you  wouldn't,  dear!  And,  oh,  Bobby,  I 
may  never  see  him  again.  He  may  be  dead,  or — or — 
he  may  never  think  about  me  at  all,  he  may  care  for 
somebody  else :  think  of  all  the  girls  he  has  met  since 
he  went  away!  but — but  you  see,  Bobby,  there  will 
never  be  any  one  else  for  me." 

When  Bobby  had  gone  away  sadly  down  the  hill, 
Kitty  ran  up  to  her  room  and  had  a  good  solid  cry, 
a  thing  she  rarely  indulged  in. 

"Tommy!"  sobbed  the  girl,  and  she  stretched  out 
her  young  lonely  arms  to  the  empty  air.  "Tommy, 
I  do  want  you  so!  Aren't  you  ever  coming?  Don't  you 
really  care  ?  I  want  my  Duke  of  Lee !  Oh,  how  happy 
would  this  gentlewoman  be,  to  be  blessed  with  her 
Duke's  good  company!  Oh!  oh!" 

By  and  by  she  got  the  better  of  herself,  dried  her 

160 


On  the  Rialto 


eyes,  washed  her  face,  and  was  cheerful  Kitty  again. 
Then  she  did  an  absurd  thing:  Kitty  was  absurd, 
there  was  no  denying  that.  She  went  to  the  long  glass 
and  curtsied  to  her  image :  then,  gravely  and  formally, 
she  proceeded  to  dance  the  "Duke  of  Lee,"  stepping 
high,  stepping  low,  tossing  her  pretty  head,  waving 
her  pretty  arms,  all  as  carefully  and  precisely  as  if 
a  partner  had  been  bowing  and  pirouetting  opposite 
her.  While  she  danced,  she  sang  the  song  from  end 
to  end;  sang  it  so  clear  and  sweet  (barring  one  little 
sob  in  the  middle)  that  Aunt  Johanna,  in  her  bed, 
wiped  her  eyes  and  thanked  goodness  some  one  was 
happy  in  the  world ;  and  Sarepta  Darwin  in  the  kitchen 
sniffed,  and  forgot  for  the  moment  the  dreadful  fact 
of  her  having  got  too  deep  a  bake  on  them  loaves, 
1'iterin'  in  the  parlor  with  them)  triflin'  children. 

As  the  last  "Marry  oo,  diddy  goo,  diddy  goo !"  died 
away,  the  doorbell  rang,  and  Kitty  went  down,  cheer- 
fully, to  receive  Judge  Peters  and  Mr.  Mallow. 

The  gentlemen  had  just  called  in  passing  to  ask  how 
Kitty  found  herself  after  the  party:  quite  unneces- 
sary to  ask,  on  seeing  her,  said  the  Judge,  but  they 
thought  they  would  call.  What  a  delightful  party! 
Madam  Flynt  always  did  things  well.  That  was  so! 
Mr.  Mallow  opined.  She  had  a  genus  for  soci'ty,  no 
two  ways  about  that.  Used  to  entertain  a  great  deal 
in  the  Colonel's  time;  Colonel  was  social,  too.  Great 
thing  to  have  the  house  open  again. 

"Got  home  all  right,  did  you,  Kitty?"  Mr.  Mal- 
low bolted  from  the  carefully  circuitous  path  laid 
down  by  the  Judge. 

161 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


"All  right,  thank  you,  Mr.  Mallow!  It  cleared  off 
fine,  you  know,  and  I  took  Pilot  and  the  open  sleigh 
for  the  last  few  loads.  It  was  such  fun !" 

"Pilot  is  a  fine  horse!"  the  Judge  nodded  the  ap- 
proval of  a  connoisseur.  "A  spirited  animal!  a  trifle 
hard-bitted,  is  he,  Kitty?" 

"Kind  o'  fresh  last  night,  was  he  ?  Cold  night  and 
all ;  don't  blame  him  a  mite !"  chimed  in  Mr.  Mallow. 

Kitty  looked  from  one  to  the  other ;  her  eyes  began 
to  twinkle. 

"What's  the  matter?"  she  asked.  "Did  I  drive  too 
fast  for  somebody?  You  know  Father  always  called 
me  a  daughter  of  Jehu,  Judge.  Have  you  come  to 
arrest  me  for  fast  driving?  Is  it  to  be  fine  or  im- 
prisonment ?" 

The  Judge  laughed  outright.  "You  are  too  sharp 
for  me,  Kitty;  or  Brother  Mallow  is  too  impatient 
for  diplomatic  procedure.  Well!  nothing  of  any  con- 
sequence, my  dear;  we  gather  that  your  last  trip  was 
rather  speedy,  and  that  there  was  a  little — a  trifling 
accident  toward  the  end  of  it.  We — a — passing  by, 
you  understand — thought  we  would  inquire — we 
wanted  to  make  sure  that  you  were  not  hurt,  my 
dear." 

"Wilse  Wibird  was  hove  out,  they  claim!"  Mr. 
Mallow  could  not  abide  what  he  called  "snangles"  in 
conversation.  Give  him  a  fack  and  he  could  handle 
it,  but  he  wouldn't  have  no  snangles. 

"His  Ma  says  the  hoss  was  runnin'  away;  how 
about  it,  Kitty?" 

162 


On  the  Rialto 


Kitty  broke  into  a  sudden  laugh;  then  suddenly 
looked  grave. 

"Pilot  never  ran  away  in  his  life,  Mr.  Mallow !  Don't 
let  John  Tucker  know  that  he  was  ever  suspected  of 
such  a  thing.  I  was  to  blame,  Judge.  I — wanted  to 
get  home;  I  cut  the  corner  too  sharp,  and  Wilson 
rolled  out,  that's  all!  I  suppose  I  ought  to  have 
stopped,"  she  added.  "I  never  thought  of  his  being 
hurt,  I  truly  didn't.  There  was  a  nice  fat  drift,  and 
he  went  into  it  so  comfortably,  I  thought!  I  do  hope 
he  isn't  hurt,  Mr.  Mallow !" 

Here  Kitty  looked  up  at  the  two  gentlemen  with 
such  a  penitent  expression  that  they  both  laughed 
again. 

"No  serious  injury,  I  gather!"  said  Judge  Peters. 

"Hurt  his  pride  and  made  his  nose  bleed,"  said  Mr. 
Mallow.  "That's  all,  Kitty.  Don't  you  worry  about 
him!" 

Something  in  her  face  made  him  add  impulsively, 
"Wilse  hadn't  been  pesterin'  you,  had  he,  Kitty?" 

Kitty  turned  scarlet  and  jumped  up  hastily. 

"Oh,  no!"  she  said.  At  least  she  was  sure  Wilson 
had  not  meant  to  annoy  her.  She  was  so  glad  he  was 
not  hurt,  and  now  she  wanted  to  show  the  Judge 
her  Dutch  bulbs.  He  knew  all  about  bulbs,  and  she 
thought  some  of  them  looked  queer. 

"Blubs,  eh?  Good  business!"  Mr.  Mallow  rose 
also.  "\Yhile  you're  showin'  him  the  blubs,  I'll  step 
into  the  kitchen  if  you've  no  projection,  Kitty,  and 
ask  S'repty  for  her  receipt  for  them  ntarracoons  of 

163 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


hera.  She  promised  it  to  me.  Talk  of  Dutch,  they 
beaut  any  Dutch  ever  I  see!" 

The  bulbs  pronounced  upon,  and  Mr.  Mallow  lin- 
gering in  fervent  consultation  over  the  "marracoons," 
the  Judge  inquired  for  Miss  Johanna.  He  trusted 
she  was  gaining  steadily.  It  was  hard  for  so  active 
a  person  to  be  deprived  of  liberty  of  locomotion  even 
for  a  time.  Was  she — a — interested  in  the  bulbs? 
Fond  of  flowers,  perhaps? 

"Oh,  yes,  indeed,  Judge !  She  enjoys  them  as  much 
as  I  do.  I  take  every  pot  up  to  her  room  as  soon  as 
it  begins  to  bud.  She  isn't  really  ill,  you  know,  just 
tired  and  resting.  Speaking  of  flowers,  do  you  know, 
some  unknown  friend  sends  her  the  most  wonderful 
violets,  every  week!  They  scent  the  whole  house! 
Don't  you  smell  them,  Judge  Peters?" 

The  Judge  sniffed  gravely  and  thought  he  did  per- 
ceive a  fragrance:  highly  agreeable.  Miss  Ross  was 
fond  of  violets? 

"They  are  her  favorite  flowers;  and  just  think," 
Kitty  rippled  on,  "they  have  come  to  her  every  week 
for  twenty  years,  and  she  has  never  known  who  sent 
them.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  anything  so  romantic?" 

"Quite  so!"  the  Judge  rose  and  looked  about  for 
his  hat.  "Very  pleasant,  very  agreeable.  Probably 
the  sender  enjoys  the  blossoms  fully  as  much  as  the 
recipient.  Present  my  kindest  regards  to  your  aunt, 
will  you,  Kitty?  Tell  her  I  trust  it  will  not  be  long 
before  her  old  friends  may  enjoy  the  privilege  of  her 
society.  Ahem !  Brother  Mallow,  we  should  be  step- 

164 


On  the  Rial  to 


ping.  Good-bye,  my  dear!  Happy  to  find  you  so 
well!" 

Going  down  the  hill,  the  two  gentlemen  came  to  a 
conclusion  which  was  less  than  just  to  the  unfortu- 
nate Wilson.  He  was  not  drunk,  only  slightly  "ele- 
vated," to  use  an  obsolescent  slang  phrase.  But  Mr. 
Mallow  knew  his  nephew  well,  and  if  there  was  a 
doubt,  Wilson  received  no  benefit  of  it.  Wilson  had 
been  drunk,  they  decided,  and  had  annoyed  Kitty,  who 
had  "speeded  up"  the  only-too-ready  Pilot  in  order 
to  escape  his  importunities.  Young  cub  had  ought 
to  be  horsewhipped,  Mr.  Mallow  thought;  the  Judge 
urged  a  severe  reprimand  instead.  Kitty  must  be  kept 
out  of  this  so  far  as  might  be,  he  said.  A  different 
impression  must  be  created  from  either  of  the  two 
which  had  been — unfortunately — put  about  early  in 
the  day.  Yes!  highly  injudicious. 

"Pair  o'  darned  patterin'  chetticoats !"  interjected 
Mr.  Mallow,  and  neither  he  nor  the  Judge  noticed  the 
transposition  of  consonants. 

Gravely  consulting,  the  two  gentlemen  repaired  to 
the  office  of  the  Centinel,  where  "Italio"  had  already 
begun  a  fervid  eulogy  of  the  Party.  As  a  result, 
the  following  paragraph  appeared  next  morning  in 
the  paper: 

"Among  those  who  ministered  to  the  enjoyment  of 
Cyrus  in  connection  with  the  delightful  festivity  of 
last  evening,  not  least  was  our  talented  and  accom- 
plished young  equestrienne,  Miss  Katharine  Ross,  who 
with  the  valuable  assistance  of  Mr.  John  Tucker  trans- 
ported all  the  guests  to  and  from  the  ball  with  equal 

165 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


skill  and  celerity.  The  gallant  steeds  which  Mr.  Tucker 
keeps  in  such  prime  condition  partook  of  the  gayety 
of  the  occasion,  and  doubtless  in  their  equine  fashion 
enjoyed  the  evening  as  much  as  the  fortunate  bipeds 
whom  they  furnished  with  the  means  of  speedy  loco- 
motion. The  Scribe  is  informed  that  an  unexpected 
burst  of  playful  speed  on  the  part  of  the  justly-cele- 
brated black  thoroughbred,  Pilot,  was  the  cause  of 
one  of  our  young  gallants'  receiving  a  morning  bath 
of  snow  earlier  than  his  accustomed  hour.  Hard  luck, 
Wilson !  Italio  is  glad  you  got  off  with  a  nosebleed  !" 
So  Pilot  had  to  bear  the  blame  after  all,  and  John 
Tucker  was  furious. 


CHAPTER  XII 

WILSON  WIMBERLEY  WIBIRD 

MRS.  WIBIRD  and  Melissa  had  a  hard  time  of  it 
for  the  next  few  days.  No  part  of  Wilson's 
bodily  frame  had  been  hurt,  except  his  nose, 
which  had  encountered  something  hard  and  was  swol- 
len to  the  size  and  shape  of  a  potato ;  but  his  feelings  in 
general  and  his  pride  in  particular  had  suffered  griev- 
ous injury.  After  one  glance  in  the  mirror,  the  morn- 
ing after  the  party,  he  fled  back  to  his  bed,  and  re- 
mained there  for  some  hours;  but  his  room  was  cold, 
and  by  afternoon  he  was  downstairs  in  the  sitting- 
room,  with  his  back  to  the  light,  and  his  feet  on  the 
baseburner  stove.  No  one  was  to  be  let  in,  he  in- 
formed his  mother  peremptorily.  He  wouldn't  be  seen 
by  any  one,  a  sight  like  this.  Mrs.  Wibird,  suggesting 
a  flaxseed  poultice,  was  waved  away  angrily.  All  he 
asked,  he  announced,  was  to  be  left  alone.  This  meant 
that  his  mother  must  sit  either  in  the  kitchen  or  in  a 
cold  bedroom:  she  chose  the  former  alternative,  and 
repaired  thither  meekly  with  her  sewing,  leaving  her 
son  to  nurse  his  injuries  in  solitude. 

His  nose!  if  it  had  been  anything  else!  A  gash 
on  the  brow,  or  a  cut  on  the  cheek,  which  might  look, 
when  healed,  like  a  Scar  of  Battle:  either  of  them 

167 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


might  have  been  displayed  with  equanimity,  even  with 
pride;  might  be  accounted  for  in  a  dozen  ways.  But 
a  swollen  and  crimson  nose!  Wilson  groaned  and 
clenched  his  teeth.  He  was  proud  of  his  nose,  which 
was  of  the  beak  variety:  he  called  it  his  commanding 
feature.  He  often,  in  fancy,  read  descriptions  of  his 
appearance  in  the  leading  journals  of  the  country. 
"A  glance  at  this  eminent  man  shows  a  commanding 
nose  and  an  indomitable  chin."  All  great  men  had 
large  noses;  his  nose  was  large;  the  conclusion  was 
not  far  to  seek. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Wilson  Wibird  was  a  degener- 
ate shoot  from  a  stock  once  good.  In  Colonial  days 
the  Wibirds  had  been  prominent  among  public-spirited 
citizens ;  had  fought  at  Bunker  Hill,  valiantly  enough ; 
had  held  responsible  positions,  and  been  commemo- 
rated in  sounding  epitaphs.  Little  by  little  the  race 
had  dwindled,  peaked  and  pined  to  its  present  state. 
Wilson's  father  had  been  postmaster,  a  meek,  sandy 
little  man  whom  everybody  liked  and  was  sorry  for, 
because  he  had  no  "faculty."  In  the  son,  Nature  had 
played  one  of  her  freaks,  endowing  him  with  the 
ambitions  (and  the  features,  if  you  will!  it  certainly 
was  a  good  big  nose,  and  his  chin  was,  as  Mr.  Mallow 
said,  as  stubborn  as  a  mule's  jaw!)  of  a  Tamburlane, 
and  the  abilities  of  a  grocer's  clerk  in  a  very  small 
way.  The  ability  of  a  hotel  clerk  he  did  not  possess, 
in  Mr.  Mallow's  opinion. 

Deeply  as  he  felt  the  injury  to  his  commanding 
feature,  deeper  injuries  still  rankled  in  Wilson's 
breast.  He  knew  perfectly  well  that  Kitty  had  tipped 

168 


Wilson  Wimberley  Wibird 


him  out  on  purpose.  He  resented  it  bitterly.  Some 
twisted  fibre  of  his  once  hard-bitted  race  was  in  him, 
making  him  cling  like  a  limpet  to  any  idea  he  once 
took  up.  Instead  of  relinquishing  his  quest,  he  was 
all  the  more  intent  upon  it.  He  would  show  the  proud 
girl  what  it  meant  to  spurn  a  Wibird.  She  should  be 
his  none  the  less,  but  he  would  subdue  her  will  to  his. 
She  should  fly  to  him  like  a  fondling  bird,  fawn  upon 
him  like  a  spaniel.  Once  humbled,  he  would  take  her 
to  his  heart,  would  raise  her  to  his  side.  "Ha!"  he 
would  say.  Wilson  loved  to  say,  "Ha !"  "You  sought 
to  escape  me,  little  one !  You  fluttered  in  the  net,  you 
pecked  at  the  strong  hand  that  held  you;  but  all  the 
time  your  fate  was  here,  your  fate  was  here,  where  it 
has  always  been !" 

Wilson  had  recently  read  "Lorna  Doone,"  and  been 
much  struck  by  some  of  Carver  Doone's  expressions. 

The  day  passed  heavily  for  both  mother  and  son. 
Toward  evening,  Melissa  entered,  fresh  from  the  Li- 
brary. She  had  had  a  happy  day;  all  the  girls  had 
been  in,  and  they  had  talked  over  the  party  to  their 
hearts'  content.  Everybody  told  Melissa  how  well 
she  looked,  and  how  pretty  her  dress  was.  When 
Nelly  Chanter  added  that  Bobby  had  said  she  looked 
"out  of  sight,"  Melissa's  little  cup  overflowed,  and 
she — hush!  never  let  it  be  told — but  Nelly  took  out  a 
new  book  before  it  had  been  listed!  Melissa  being 
as  a  rule  a  most  conscientious  little  soul,  and  more- 
over a  librarian  "not  trained,  but  gifted,"  this  action 
was  eloquent,  if  unjustifiable.  She  came  home  full 
of  compassion  for  Wilson,  and  with  a  bag  of  the 

169 


'A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


cinnamon  buns  he  specially  liked,  to  "liven  up"  his 
supper. 

"Poor  Wilson!"  she  said,  "how  is  your  poor  nose? 
Have  you  had  a  tiresome  day?  I  brought  you  the 
second  volume  of  'The  Maid  of  Sker.' ' 

Wilson  growled  something  unintelligible  and 
hunched  his  shoulders  over  the  stove. 

"My!  it's  stuffy  here!"  Melissa  went  on.  "Shan't 
I  open  the  window  for  a  minute?  It's  real  warm 
out!' 

"You  shall  not!  If  you  find  the  room  stuffy,  you 
needn't  stay  in  it.  It  does  seem  as  if  a  man  might 
have  a  little  peace  in  his  own  house.  Shut  the  door, 
will  you?" 

Melissa  retired  to  the  kitchen;  her  mother  looked 
up  anxiously. 

"How  does  he  seem,  Lissy?  I  haven't  been  in.  I 
thought  he  might  be  asleep." 

"He's  awful  cross!"  pouted  Lissy.  "Snapped  me 
up  like  I  was  a  bone!" 

"I  expect  he's  feeling  mean!"  Mrs.  Wibird  spoke 
depreciatingly.  "His  nose  must  be  dreadful  sore;  and 
his  feelings — he  is  so  sensitive !  I  do  think  Kitty  Ross 
ought  to  be  had  up  for  driving  that  way !" 

"Now,  mother!  Don't  you  say  a  word  against 
Kitty!  Wilson  oughtn't  to  have  asked  her  to  bring 
him  home,  tired  as  she  was,  and  after  midnight,  too. 
He  ought  to  have  walked,  as  the  other  boys  did.  I 
hear  Bobby  Chanter  said " 

Here  the  door  opened,  and  Wilson  appeared,  his 

170 


Wilson  Wimberley  Wibird 


small  eyes  glaring  fiercely,  though  inadequately,  over 
his  crimson  potato-nose. 

"I  am  going  to  bed!"  he  announced.  "My  head 
aches,  and  this  chattering  drives  me  distracted." 

"So  do,  dear!"  his  mother  soothed  him.  "So  do! 
I'll  light  the  oil  stove,  and  bring  your  supper  up  to 
you  soon  as  it's  ready." 

"I  brought  you  some  cinnamon  buns,  Wilson !"  said 
Melissa,  who  could  not  harbor  irritation  more  than 
two  minutes.  "I  hope  your  head'll  be  better  in  the 
morning,  dear!" 

Wilson  flung  away  with  no  other  answer  than  a 
snarl.  He  ate  the  buns,  though,  when  they  came 
up  hot  in  a  napkin ;  made  a  very  good  supper  on  the 
whole.  The  tray  disposed  of,  he  locked  his  door,  and 
then  proceeded  to  unlock  a  cupboard  and  take  out  a 
bottle  and  glass.  Poor  Wilson!  we  liked  to  think  it 
was  not  his  fault  entirely,  that  some  of  his  ancestors 
had  been  hard  drinking  as  well  as  hard-bitted ;  but  that 
made  it  no  easier  for  Mrs.  Wibird  and  Melissa. 

When  putting  back  the  bottle  and  glass,  his  hand 
touched  something  else  in  the  cupboard,  something 
hard  and  smooth  and  cold.  He  muttered  under  his 
breath;  groped  for  the  object,  and  brought  it  out.  A 
pistol!  not  of  the  newest  make  or  deadliest  calibre, 
but  still  a  practical  weapon,  capable  of  being  loaded 
and  fired.  Wilson's  face  cleared  as  he  looked  at  it. 
Here  wras  a  friend  for  a  desperate  man !  He  nodded 
darkly  several  times ;  stepped  to  the  mirror  to  see  how 
he  looked  when  performing  this  act,  but  recoiled  with 
a  groan.  He  should,  properly  speaking,  have  thrust 

171 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


the  pistol  in  his  bosom,  but  pajamas  have  no  bosoms: 
besides,  the  steel  was  cold.  Finally,  he  put  it  under 
his  pillow,  and  went  to  sleep  to  the  tune  of  murder, 
suicide,  and  three  columns  in  the  City  newspaper. 

Youth  and  sleep  can  do  much,  even  for  the  foolish 
and  befuddled.  By  morning  Wilson  was  once  more 
the  master  of  Ross  House,  waving  in  his  guests  (and 
Kitty's)  with  courtly  gesture.  He  was  roused  from 
this  happy  dream  by  the  untimely  entrance  of  Billy, 
the  clerk  of  the  Mallow  House.  Billy  had  just  looked 
in  on  his  way  down  town,  at  6:45,  to  find  Melissa 
preparing  breakfast,  Wilson  in  bed,  and  likely  to  re- 
main there.  Billy  guessed  he  would  go  up  and  say 
howdy.  Melissa  protested :  Billy  grinned  cheerfully, 
and  went  up. 

"Morn'n,  Wilse!  h'are'y?"  (I  find  the  last  word 
cannot  be  spelled.  It  is  chiefly  H  and  broad  A,  but 
the  other  letters  are  there,  somehow.)  Wilson 
grunted  and  turned  a  striped  shoulder  pointedly  on 
the  intruder. 

"Better  get  up !"  said  Billy  amicably.  "Better  come 
down!" 

"I  can't!  I'm  sick!  Can't  you  see  I'm  sick?  Get 
out,  Billy!' 

"Can't  see  anything  but  your  py jammer  shirt,"  said 
Billy.  "Better  get  up;  better  come  down.  Boss  told 
me  to  fetch  you." 

Wilson  expressed  his  opinion  of  the  Boss  and  of 
Billy,  too,  in  no  flattering  terms. 

"Better  get  up!  better  come  down!"  Billy  chanted 
monotonously.  "Lose  your  job  if  you  don't.  Boss 

172 


Filling  his  pockets  with  gold,  Tom  strolled  happily 
through  the  streets  of  Peking,  looking  in  at  all  the 
bazaars.  . 


Wilson  Wimberley  Wibird 


says  he's  most  as  sick  of  you  as  he  wants  to  be :  Jim 
Shute's  been  seekin'  round  for  the  job  the  past  month. 
Better  get  up!  here's  your  pants!  better  come  down! 
here's  your  shirt!  I'll  wait  downstairs." 

It  was  thus  that  Billy  won  his  battles;  he  never  lost 
one.  Everybody  did  what  Billy  told  him  to.  Nobody 
could  analyze  his  power;  Mr.  Mallow  opined  that  it 
was  because  he  didn't  open  his  head  except  when 
there  was  something  doin'.  "His  gun's  always  lo'ded, 
but  he  don't  pull  it  more'n  once  or  twice  a  year."  I 
think  it  was  really  because  of  his  ignoring  opposition. 
He  never  seemed  to  hear  anything  that  was  said  on  the 
other  side ;  he  simply  went  ahead  and  did  what  he  had 
to  do.  Destiny  in  checks,  Kitty  called  him.  His  weak- 
ness seemed  to  be  for  the  largest  and  loudest  checks 
imaginable,  especially  in  his  trousers.  I  always  fan- 
cied he  was  in  love  with  Melissa,  but — well,  no  mat- 
ter! 

I  feel  as  if  I  ought  to  pause  here  to  apologize  for 
this  utterly  one-sided  story,  with  hardly  a  sound, 
much  less  a  sight  of  the  hero.  Of  course  every  reader 
who  knows  anything  at  all  knows  that  Tom  Lee  is 
neither  dead  nor  false,  and  that  he  is  bound  to  appear 
at  some  point.  But  Cyrus  could  not  know  this;  even 
Kitty  could  not  be  sure  of  it,  at  least  not  always,  when 
she  was  tired.  So  far  as  I  can  make  out,  Tom  at 
about  this  time,  the  time  of  Madam  Flynt's  party,  was 
taking  leave  of  the  Emperor  of  China  (there  were 
emperors  in  those  days)  and  receiving  from  certain 
officers  of  that  potentate  large  sums  of  gold.  Filling 
his  pockets  with  a  small  proportion  of  this  gold,  Torn 

173 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


strolled  happily  through  the  streets  of  Peking,  look- 
ing in  at  all  the  bazaars,  and  buying  everything  he 
thought  Kitty  might  like.  Oh!  the  pale  green  kimono 
with  the  gold  dragons!  ah!  the  rose-colored  crape 
showered  over  with  cherry  blossoms!  How  Cyrus 
was  to  sigh  and  clasp  its  hands  over  them!  And  the 
panvre  of  moonstones  and  aquamarines,  which  only 
a  princess  or  Kitty  in  her  bloom  could  possibly  wear ! 
And  then,  if  that  boy  did  not  think  of  everybody  in 
Cyrus,  or  almost  everybody!  and  buy  pink  coral  for 
Miss  Egeria  and  red  coral  for  Miss  Almeria  (coral 
was  "in"  then!)  and  tortoise-shell  for  Sarepta,  and 
ebony  and  sandal  wood  boxes  for  all  the  rest  of  us,  till 
his  trunks  could  hold  no  more!  Then  he  sat  down 
and  wrote  to  Kitty  out  of  his  faithful  heart;  saying 
it  was  a  dog's  age  since  he  had  heard  from  her,  but 
the  mails  were  rum  in  these  parts,  too  rum  for  him, 
so  he  was  coming  home,  coming  for  keeps.  This  had 
been  a  big  job,  and  he  had  got  big  pay  for  it.  In 
fact,  he  had  made  his  pile,  Kitty:  not  that  he  would 
ever  stop  working,  she  wouldn't  have  anything  to  say 
to  him  if  he  did  that;  but  he  meant  to  settle  down  and 
take  expert  jobs  as  they  came  along.  They  wanted 

him  in  ,  but  he  would  rather  live  in  dear  old 

Cyrus,  if  Kitty  was  agreeable,  and  he  fancied  she 
would  be.  If  the  dear  Lady  wanted  them  to  live  with 
her,  that  would  suit  him  all  right;  (alas!  he  did  not 
know!)  he  loved  her  dearly,  and  he  loved  every  nail 
in  Ross  House,  Kitty  knew  that.  If  not,  his  own 
house  was  only  let  from  year  to  year,  and  they  would 
move  right  into  that. 

174 


Wilson  Wimberley  Wibird 


"Kitty,  you  see  I  am  taking  it  for  granted  that  you 
have  waited  for  me.  What  should  I  do  if — but  I 
know  you  have!  that  is,  I  know  it  almost  always,  ex- 
cept when  I'm  dog-tired  or  the  grub  has  given  out. 
Once  or  twice,  up  in  the  mountains,  I  got  a  bit  down, 
but  it  never  lasted.  Because,  of  course,  you  know  how 
every  hour  and  every  minute  I  am  thinking  of  you, 
my  darling.  You  must  have  felt  it,  Kitty,  even  when 
you  didn't  get  my  letters,  and  I'm  afraid  they  didn't 
always  get  through,  but  I  hope  so.  You  must  have 
realized  that  it  has  been  you,  standing  right  beside 
me,  going  with  me  through  everything,  that  has  car- 
ried me  over  the  rough  places;  and  there  have  been 
some  pretty  rough  ones,  darling,  but  all  that  is  over 
now,  and  in  about  two  weeks  I  shall  be  sailing  for 
home,  the  happiest  man  in  the  wide  world,  for  you 
are  at  the  other  end,  waiting  for  me — aren't  you, 
Kitty?" 

Kitty  got  that  letter.  It  arrived  about  a  month 
after  another  arrival,  to  be  chronicled  in  due  time. 

Meantime  the  days  came  and  went,  and  it  was  now 
late  April.  Not  yet  quite  spring  with  us,  but  so  near 
that  one  could  hear  her  whispering  over  the  hill-tops. 
Mother  Earth  was  making  ready  to  receive  her.  There 
was  a  vast  deal  of  house-cleaning  going  on.  Great 
rains  sluiced  out  the  roads,  and  filled  the  streams  to 
overflowing;  they  rushed  along,  brown  and  foaming, 
carrying  with  them  the  unsightly  leavings  of  winter, 
who  had  hurried  off,  as  usual,  without  "redding  up" 
in  any  way.  The  river  flowed  broad  and  swift,  dotted 
with  floating  ice-cakes;  the  willows  along  the  bank 

175 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


showed  brown  smoke  touched  with  green.  Here  and 
there  were  bushes  with  blood-red  stems,  vivid  as 
coral.  In  the  woods,  snow  lingered  in  blackish 
patches;  almost  touching  these  patches,  ferns  were 
unrolling,  hepaticas  taking  off  their  gray  furs,  blood- 
root  opening  its  lovely  white  cups. 

"And  oh!"  cried  Kitty.  "Don't  speak  to  me,  any 
one!  I  believe  it's  an  anemone!" 

Kitty  was  having  a  holiday.  Madam  Flynt  was 
not  going  out  that  afternoon;  John  Tucker  would 
never  let  her,  Kitty,  meet  the  trains;  Aunt  Johanna 
had  pronounced  her  pale,  and  bidden  her  walk  five 
miles  and  bring  back  a  color.  She  had  meant  to  be 
back  in  time  for  one  o'clock  dinner,  but  as  she  came 
downstairs  Sarepta  appeared  with  a  neat  tin  box  and 
the  announcement,  "Here's  a  snack!  You  can  have 
your  dinner  with  your  supper !" 

She  vanished.  Kitty  peeped,  saw  chicken  sand- 
wiches and  an  apple  turnover,  and  departed  joyful. 

"Dear  Sarepta,"  she  murmured.  "If  one  must  have 
a  tyrant,  how  nice  to  have  one  who  can  make  turn- 
overs !" 

It  was  a  day  of  days.  Not  warm;  one  was  not 
ready  for  warmth  yet;  but  every  breath  was  a  de- 
light, the  air  so  tingled  with  wakening  life.  Kitty 
walked  not  five  miles,  but  ten,  if  she  had  known  it. 
She  took  no  count  of  miles,  swinging  along  over  hill 
and  dale,  her  quick  eyes  taking  in  every  sign  of 
promise;  here  a  catkin  waving,  there  a  little  host  of 
green  spears  pushing  up  through  the  brown  earth. 
She  sat  on  a  huge  silvered  root  in  a  stump  fence  to 

176 


Wilson  Wimberley  Wibird 


eat  her  luncheon.  A  chipmunk  came  to  make  inquiries 
and  received  crumbs ;  a  bluebird  sang  in  a  cherry  tree 
near  by.  It  was  a  delightful  feast.  This  was  on  top 
of  the  Great  Hill,  from,  which  one  saw  all  the  king- 
doms of  the  earth,  more  or  less.  Kitty  saw  and  re- 
joiced in  all :  the  kingdom  of  pines,  stretching  dark 
and  velvety  along  its  waving  miles;  the  kingdom  of 
hills,  bare  and  ruddy  in  the  sunlight ;  the  kingdom  of 
streams  and  ponds,  a  great  necklace  of  sapphires 
flung  across  the  countryside.  Kitty  saw,  and  sighed 
with  delight ;  then  slipped  her  empty  box  in  her  pocket 
and  set  her  face  homeward.  Already  the  sunbeams 
came  slanting  through  the  pines  on  the  crest ;  she  had 
a  long  way  to  go.  "And  I  must  and  will  go  back 
through  Lancaston  Woods!"  said  Kitty.  "Perhaps 
I'll  make  a  call  on  Savory  Bite;  similarly,  perhaps  I 
won't.  I  wonder  if  his  paint  is  blue  still.  Naughty 
Tom!" 

Down  the  hillside  went  Kitty,  across  lots; 
through  steep  pastures  of  slippery  russet  grass,  where 
the  huddled  rocks  looked  like  flocks  of  gray  sheep, 
browsing;  through  hanging  copses,  the  outlying  pick- 
ets of  the  kingdom  of  pines;  so  down  at  last  to  the 
kingdom  itself,  the  long  stretch  of  woodland,  bor- 
dered on  one  side  by  the  river,  on  the  other  by  that 
shy,  pleasant  thoroughfare  known  as  Lancaston  Road. 
It  was  near  the  edge  of  the  road  that  Kitty  was  wan- 
dering happily  along,  about  five  o'clock,  when  she 
should  have  been  nearer  home;  it  was  here  that  she 
found  the  first  anemone.  She  was  bending  over  it  in 
rapture,  when  she  heard  a  name  pronounced ;  not  her 

177 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


own  name,  but  a  perversion  of  it  to  which  she  was  now 
only  too  well  accustomed. 

"Katrine !"  cried  Wilson  Wibird.  "Can  it  be  ?  Fate 
is  kind  for  once !" 

Wilson  had  been  to  Tinkham :  I  fear  on  no  profitable 
errand.  He  was  on  his  homeward  way,  walking  with 
a  rather  uncertain  step,  wavering  from  side  to  side  of 
the  road.  Catching  sight  of  a  figure  through  the  trees, 
his  half-tipsy  fancy  prompted  him  to  see  who  it  was. 
Here  he  was  now,  balancing  himself  on  unsteady  feet, 
leering  at  Kitty  in  a  way  which  he  felt  to  be  irre- 
sistible. Wilson's  nose  had  long  since  resumed  its 
normal  appearance.  He  had  by  a  happy  inspiration 
put  on  his  good  suit ;  a  necktie  of  undeniable  brilliancy 
flaunted  beneath  the  high  collar  which  partly  shel- 
tered his  long  bird-like  neck.  He  felt  that  the  occa- 
sion was  a  fortunate  one. 

"Well  met  by  sunlight,  proud  Titania!"  was  his 
greeting  to  Kitty. 

"How  d'ye  do,  Wilson !"  Kitty  nodded,  and  stepped 
past  him  toward  the  open:  he,  however,  stepped  with 
her. 

"Don't  hurry,  Katrine !  it  is  a  sweet  evening :  let  us 
stroll  home  together!  Fate  has  not  lightly  brought 
about  this  meeting." 

"I  haven't  time  to  stroll,  Wilson !  I  must  walk  fast. 
Don't  let  me  hurry  you,  though !  Good  evening !" 

She  stepped  aside  to  pass  him,  but  again  he  stepped 
with  her ;  tried  for  a  space  to  keep  pace  with  her,  and 
finding  this  difficult,  planted  himself  squarely  in  front 
of  her. 

178 


Wilson  Wimberley  Wibird 


"Not  so  fast,  sweet  one !"  he  said.  "I  have  a  word 
to  say  to  thee.  We  have  not  met  since  the  dance,  Kat- 
rine. A  long  month  ago!" 

"I  believe  not!"  Kitty  spoke  coolly,  but  she  gave  a 
quick  glance  up  and  down  the  road.  No  one  was  in 
sight:  there  was  no  house  near  except  Savory  Bite's 
cottage,  and  that  was  out  of  sight  round  the  next 
corner. 

"Katrine  was  cruel  that  night!"  Wilson  went  on, 
still  balancing  himself  from  side  to  side.  He  could 
not  seem  to  stand  still  and  straight  at  the  same  time. 
"Katrine  was  cruel  indeed.  She  flung  her  Fate  from 
her;  tipped  me  out  in  the  snow,  didn't  she?  But  her 
Fate  came  back."  He  laughed.  "Here's  Fate,  Kat- 
rine! Can't  escape  it;  here  is  Fate!  Fate  is  here!" 

He  tapped  himself  on  the  breast,  and  assumed  an 
attitude  of  command. 

"What  are  you  talking  about,  Wilson?"  exclaimed 
Kitty  impatiently.  "Please  let  me  pass,  and  don't  be 
silly." 

"Silly!  she  calls  me  silly!" 

Wilson  nodded  thrice  solemnly  and  tried  to  take 
Kitty's  hand ;  failing  in  which,  he  waved  his  own  and 
then  leveled  a  wavering  forefinger  at  her. 

"Katrine,  it  is  time  we  came  to  an  unshand — un- 
dershand — understanding !  I  feel — I  have  long  felt — 
that  we  were  born  for  each  other.  Why  blink  the 
fact?" 

This  struck  Wilson  as  a  strong  expression;  he  re- 
peated it — "Why  blink  the  fact!  Let  us  hail  it,  joy- 

179 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


fully,  Katrine.  Two  hearts  that  beat  as  one  I  You 
are  mine,  little  bird :  mine !" 

Now,  however  much  Wilson  Wibird  might  indulge 
in  remarks  of  this  kind  to  his  crony,  the  mirror,  he 
would  not  have  dared  to  make  them  to  Kitty  when 
sober,  and  Kitty  knew  it.  After  that  swift  glance  up 
and  down  the  road,  she  drew  out  a  long  steel  hatpin 
and  held  it  in  her  hand. 

"Wilson,"  she  said  briefly,  "what  do  you  mean? 
What  are  you  talking  about,  and  what  do  you  want  ?" 

"Want — you!"  Wilson  opened  his  arms  with  a  dra- 
matic gesture.  "You  are  mine,  I  say !  I  have  an  iron 
will,  Katrine,  and  that  will  claims  you.  Come,  little 
bird !  Let  us  seal  our  union  with  a  k " 

"If  you  come  one  step  nearer,"  said  Kitty  quietly, 
"I'll  run  this  pin  into  you." 

She  displayed  the  pin,  really  a  formidable  weapon. 

Wilson,  who  had  taken  a  step  forward,  paused. 

"I  have  an  iron  will !"  he  protested.  "  'Wibird 
hath  iron  will;'  did  you  never  hear  that,  Katrine? 
Tis  the  motto  of  our  House.  I  am  the  tenth  and 
perhaps  the  last  Wilson  Wimberley  Wibird.  In  me 
meet  the  features — "  he  indicated  his  nose  and  chin — 
"and  the  forces  of  my  ancestors.  Don't  be  obstinate, 
Katrine!" 

Here  his  mood  changed  suddenly;  his  eyes  filled 
with  tears. 

"Don't  be  cruel,  Kitty!"  he  implored.  "You've  al- 
ways been  cruel,  Kitty,  and  I've  always  loved  you. 
Don't  be  cruel  to  the  tenth  and  perhaps  the  last  Wil- 
son Wimberley  Wibird !  Be  .kind,  not  cruel  I  They 

180 


Wilson  Wimberley  Wibird 


both  begin  with — at  least  the  sound  is  the  same.  I  am 
your  Fate,  Kitty — I  mean  Katrine!  I  should  think 
you  would  be  kind  to  your  Fate." 

Here  the  gentleman  wept  bitterly. 

Kitty  spoke  kindly  and  distinctly. 

"I  would  go  home  now,  Wilson,  if  I  were  you!" 
she  said.  "You  are  not  yourself.  Forget  this  fool- 
ishness, and  go  home  to  your  mother.  If  you  will 
walk  ahead,  I  will  follow  you." 

But  Wilson's  mood  changed  again.  "Never!"  he 
said.  "I  am  desh — desperate!  deshperate  man!  If 
you  won't  be  mine,  I  won't  be — I  mean,  I'll  put  an 
end  to  myself !  Blow  my  brains  out,  here's  minute. 
Then  you'll  know  what  it  is  to  spurn  a  Wibird!  ha! 
You  mock  me!"  He  pulled  out  the  pistol  and  flour- 
ished it  in  the  air. 

Kitty  stepped  quickly  forward  and  took  it  from 
him. 

"Now,"  she  said  quietly,  "if  you  will  walk  ahead, 
Wilson,  I  will  follow  you." 

While  these  things  were  going  on,  Mr.  Very  Jor- 
dano  had  been  making  his  annual  call  on  Avery  Bright, 
the  hermit.  This  call  was  made  at  no  regular  time  or 
season.  When  news  was  scarce,  or  the  pulse  of 
Cyrus  seemed  to  beat  feebly,  the  editor  of  the  Centinel 
was  wont  to  cast  about  him  for  legitimate  subjects  of 
possible  interest  from  which  a  "story"  might  be  ex- 
tracted. His  native  delicacy  being  perpetually  at  war 
with  his  professional  instinct,  he  could  not  bring  him- 
self to  take  advantage  of  any  occurrence  the  mention 
of  which  might  cause  any  "feeling"  in  any  quarter  of 

181 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


the  neighborhood.  This  warfare  hampered  him  sadly. 
But  "Savory  Bite"  never  read  a  newspaper;  he  had 
no  relations;  there  seemed  no  reason  why  he  should 
not  be  exploited,  if  only  he  could  be  brought  to  unfold 
his  tale.  He  never  yet  had  unfolded  his  tale,  but 
hope  sprang  eternal  in  Mr.  Jordano's  breast,  and  once 
a  year,  as  I  say,  he  would  try  his  fortune.  His  zeal- 
ous questions  were  met  alternately  by  "Yep"  and 
"Nope,"  with  "I  d'no!"  as  an  occasional  variant.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  Savory  had  no  tale  to  unfold.  He 
was  not  in  any  way  an  interesting  or  mysterious  per- 
son, save  to  the  young  or  the  newcomer  in  Cyrus.  The 
elders  knew  that  he  lived  alone  merely  because  his 
parents  had  died  and  left  him  so.  There  he  was,  and 
there  he  stayed.  He  had  lost  the  habit  of  talking  after 
twenty  years  of  a  stone-deaf  mother;  also,  he  had 
nothing  special  to  say.  So  much  for  our  hermit ! 

On  this  occasion  Mr.  Jordano  was  in  great  need  of 
a  "story"  to  fill  a  certain  column  for  this  week's  Cen- 
tinel,  already  half  set  up.  There  had  been  no  arrivals 
in  Cyrus  since  the  last  issue;  people  had  not  begun  to 
shingle  their  barns  or  plant  their  gardens:  it  was  a 
dry  time  for  editors.  His  success  with  Mr.  Bright 
had  been  no  more  marked  than  usual,  but  as  he  left 
the  house  he  was  already  composing  a  paragraph 
which  could  not,  he  modestly  thought,  fail  to  interest 
the  public. 

"The  Scribe  made  a  neighborly  call  yesterday  on 
our  isolated  but  ever  courteous  fellow-townsman  Mr. 
Avery  Bright,  in  his  domicile  on  the  Lancaston  Road. 
The  gentle  hermit  received  me  in  his  commodious 

182 


Wilson  Wimberley  Wibird 


kitchen,  which  he  would  appear  to  use  also  as  a  sitting 
room.  It  is  painted  of  a  cerulean  blue,  and  is  as 
tasty  an  apartment  as  any  housewife  could  desire.  Mr. 
Bright  is  a  man  of  few  words,  and  may  be  said  to 
cultivate  the  golden  flower  of  silence:  yet  Italio  re- 
ceived from  him  some  valuable  information,  which  he 
feels  at  liberty  to  impart  to  his  readers.  Spring  will 
be  late,  in  Mr.  Bright's  opinion.  The  breast  of  that 
useful  and  (when  roasted  with  the  seasonable  ad- 
juncts of  sage,  onion  and  applesauce)  toothsome  feath- 
ered biped,  the  goose,  which  hangs  beside  his  well- 
polished  stove,  displays  large  patches  of  white.  This 
shows  that  the  winter  has  been  a  hard  one,  which,  in- 
deed, we  know  to  have  been  the  case :  it  also  foretells, 
the  weatherwise  anchorite  intimated,  that  the  spring 
will  be  backward.  On  the  Scribe's  venturing  a  pleas- 
antry to  the  effect  that  spring,  like  other  good  things, 
was  worth  waiting  for,  Mr.  Bright  signified  his  assent 
to  the  proposition  by  a  sagacious  nod.  As  to  the 
woodchuck " 

Mr.  Jordano  got  no  farther  with  the  woodchuck. 
Lifting  his  eyes  as  he  closed  the  gate  of  the  hermit- 
age behind  him,  he  saw  a  sight  that  made  him  start 
and  almost  drop  his  notebook.  Up  the  road  came 
Wilson  Wibird,  plodding  sullenly  along  with  bent 
head  and  muttering  lips;  behind  him  walked  Kitty 
Ross,  holding  a  pistol  in  her  hand.  After  the  first 
petrified  glance,  Mr.  Jordano  hastened  forward,  call- 
ing Kitty's  name;  she  and  her  convoy  looked  up  at 
the  same  moment. 

"Damn!"  said  Wilson. 

183 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


"Oh,  Mr.  Jordano!"  cried  Kitty.  "I  am  so  glad 
to  see  you !  Are  you — are  you  going  my  way  ?" 

"Absolutely!  absolutely!"  cried  Mr.  Jordano,  seiz- 
ing the  first  word  that  came  to  his  bewildered  mind. 
"I  should  esteem  it  a  high  privilege,  Miss  Kitty.  Per- 
mit me,  my — my  dear  young  lady!" 

He  motioned  toward  the  pistol;  Kitty  gladly  re- 
linquished it,  and  he  drew  a  breath  of  relief. 

"Periloso!"  he  murmured.  "Extremely  periloso! 
If  your  foot  should  slip-pip-pip — step  out,  Wilson!" 

His  tone  changed  from  that  of  anxious  courtesy  to 
imperious  command.  The  unhappy  Wilson,  feeling 
the  impact  of  the  pistol  muzzle  between  his  shoul- 
ders, stepped  out.  Beginning  to  mutter  curses,  he 
was  sternly  bidden  to  hold  his  tongue-pung-pung ! 
Thus  they  proceeded  along  the  Lancaston  Road,  where 
fortunately  the  houses  are  few  and  far  between;  a 
tragi-comic  little  procession.  Mr.  Jordano  was  fairly 
snorting  with  chivalrous  indignation.  His  dark  eyes 
flashed  real  fire;  his  cloak  was  thrown  superbly  over 
his  shoulder.  Could  the  dear  gentleman  have  known 
it,  he  really  looked  for  the  nonce  like  one  of  the 
Italian  patriots  on  whom  he  so  desired  to  form  him- 
self. Presently  he  became  aware  that  Kitty  was 
trembling.  Bending  anxiously  toward  her,  she 
turned  on  him  a  face  of  suppressed  and  remorseful 
laughter. 

"Put  it  away !"  she  whispered.  "We  are  coming  to 
a  house.  He  won't  give  any  more  trouble,  I  am  sure." 

Mr.  Jordano  nodded  and  slipped  the  pistol  into  his 
pocket  Soon  after,  they  came  to  a  crossroad  which 

184 


Wilson  Wimberley  Wibird 


led  by  a  short  cut  to  the  Common  and  Ross  House. 
Seeing  Kitty  about  to  turn  aside,  Mr.  Jordano  made 
as  if  to  accompany  her,  but  she  checked  him  with  a 
decided  shake  of  her  head.  As  he  hesitated,  she  laid 
her  finger  on  her  lips,  kissed  it  toward  him  with  an 
adorable  gesture  of  gratitude  and  affection,  and,  turn- 
ing, sped  away  in  the  gathering  dusk.  Mr.  Jordano 
looked  after  her  with  a  sigh ;  he  felt  that  kiss  warm  at 
his  heart.  He  would  lay  down  his  life,  if  necessary, 
for  that  sweet  young  lady.  Anger  sweeping  him  again 
as  he  turned  to  the  shambling  figure  before  him,  he 
addressed  it  with  asperity. 

"Come,  Wilson!  wake  up-pup-pup!  Step  out-tout- 
tout!  You  ought  to  be  lighting  the  lamps  this  minute." 

But  I  ask  you,  was  it  not  hard  that  the  real  "story" 
which  had  dropped  for  him  out  of  a  clear  sky,  as  it 
were,  was  one  that  Mr.  Jordano's  knightly  soul  could 
not  for  an  instant  think  of  as  matter  for  publication? 

What  a  paragraph  it  would  have  made! 


CHAPTER  XIII 

PILOT 

DEAR  Dan!  but  you  don't  think  it  is  anything 
serious,  John?" 

"Oh,  no,  Miss  Kitty.  He'll  be  fit  as  a 
fiddle  in  two-three  days.  All  I  mean,  he  give  him- 
self a  little  wrinch,  like,  and  I  thought  let  him  rest 
up  a  day  or  two,  that's  all.  Anybody  has  to  rest 
once  in  a  while ;  any  hoss,  I  would  say." 

"Well!"  Kitty  gave  Dan  another  lump  of  sugar. 
"I  believe  all  he  wants  is  more  sugar,  John  Tucker. 
Just  look  at  him!  You  are  an  angelic  humbug,  Dan 
dear,  and  you  aren't  to  have  another  scrap.  So — 
you'll  take  Old  Crummies  to  the  station,  I  suppose, 
John.  And  I'll  take  Madam  Flynt  with  Pilot." 

Kitty  did  not  look  at  John  Tucker  as  she  said  this; 
they  both  looked  a  little  conscious.  Old  Crummies, 
the  third  horse,  bought  by  John  Tucker  (Kitty  vowed 
she  would  never  attempt  another  horse  trade!)  was 
eminently  safe  and  sound,  but  a  trifle  dull.  Neither 
Kitty  nor  John  Tucker  specially  enjoyed  driving  him. 

"Yes,  Miss!"  said  John  Tucker.  "Three  o'clock,  I 
suppose." 

Immediately  Kitty's  heart  began  to  smite  her. 

"You  are  as  angelic  as  Dan,  John  Tucker,"  she 

186 


Pilot 

cried.  "And  I  am  a  selfish  Thing!  and  wicked,  too," 
she  added :  "I  know  Madam  Flynt  is  dreadfully  afraid 
of  Pilot.  She  has  only  driven  behind  him  once,  and 
then  she  felt  that  her  life  hung  on  the  dasher,  she 
told  me  afterward.  So  I'll  take  Old  Crummies,  John 
Tucker,  dear." 

But  John  Tucker  was  up  in  arms  at  once  in  defense 
of  his  favorite. 

"Madam  Flynt  has  no  call  to  be  afraid  of  Pilot,"  he 
said  gruffly.  "Pilot  is  as  clever  a  hoss  as  is  in  this 
State ;  and  as  stiddy,  for  a  young  hoss.  What  I  mean, 
you  don't  expect  a  young  hoss  to  reason  things  out 
the  way  an  old  one  does.  Take  Dan  now,  or  even 
Crummies,  though  he  hasn't  much  more  sense  than  a 
meal-tub;  what  I  mean,  you  couldn't  scare  either  one 
on  'em;  not  if  you  said  'Boo!'  right  in  their  count'- 
nance.  They'd  toss  their  head,  at  least  Dan  would, 
and  think,  'Well,  I  ain't  a  jackass,  anyway!'  But 
take  a  young,  spirited  hoss  like  Pilot,  and  he  hasn't 
had  the  experience,  Miss  Kitty,  that's  all  there  is  to 
it.  You  meet  a  thrashing-machine,  say,  with  Pilot,  or 
an  elephant,  or  something  else  that  it  don't  belong 
there,  what  I  mean  is.  Well,  he'll  antic  up  a  mite,  to 
express  surprise,  same  as  a  person  would.  'My  land!' 
he  says:  'what's  that?'  Only  he  says  it  with  his  head 
and  his  four  legs,  not  havin'  language,  as  you  may 
say." 

"John  Tucker!  you  never  met  an  elephant  with 
Pilot!" 

"I  did,  Miss !  not  one,  but  three  elephants:  'twas  that 
circus  used  to  go  through  North  Cyrus  to  the  City. 

187 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


Well!  Pilot  warn't  only  three  years  old  then.  He 
co't  sight  of  them  elephants,  and  he  was  all  over  the 
ro'd,  all  over  the  lot,  all  over  the  county,  in  a  minute, 
but  he  never  meant  no  harm.  He  was  only  wonderin', 
that  was  all.  No,  Miss  Kitty !"  John  Tucker  shut  his 
jack-knife  with  a  decided  snap,  and  turned  away  from 
the  stall. 

"You  take  Pilot  for  Madam  Flynt.  He'll  do  any- 
thing in  creation  you  tell  him,  and  she'll  have  a  real 
nice  ride.  I  ain't  any  too  fond  of  takin'  him  to  the 
trains  anyway,"  he  added.  "He  gets  real  annoyed 
if  he  has  to  stand  round  waitin',  and  I  don't  know  as 
I  blame  him." 

So  at  three  o'clock,  after  a  confidential  talk  with 
Pilot,  in  which  she  explained  the  situation  to  him,  and 
told  him  he  was  going  to  be  just  as  saintly  as  Dan, 
and  not  so  much  as  wink  if  they  met  a  whole  caravan 
of  elephants  (which  was  most  unlikely  at  this  sea- 
son), Kitty  drove  up  to  Madam  Flynt's  door.  Pilot 
stood  like  a  rock  while  the  two  ladies  got  in.  They 
were  engaged  in  a  rather  acrimonious  discussion  as 
to  the  quality  and  thickness  of  an  extra  wrap  carried 
by  Miss  Croly,  and  did  not  notice  the  horse;  Kitty 
thought  it  unnecessary  to  call  attention  to  him,  and 
off  they  went.  The  day  was  perfect;  so  was  Pilot. 
He  settled  down  almost  at  once  into  the  long  smooth 
trot  that  covered  twelve  miles  an  hour  and  seemed  ab- 
solutely effortless.  "I  can  keep  this  up  all  day,"  he 
signified  to  Kitty  with  one  ear,  "if  this  is  what  you 
want.  A  trifle  dull,  what?" 

"Yes,  darling!"  replied  Kitty  with  the  slightest 

188 


Pilot 

movement  of  the  reins;  "but  it  is  precisely  right,  and 
you  are  a  Cherry  Pie,  and  shall  have  the  most  deli- 
cious mash  for  your  precious  supper !' ' 

There  is  a  State  Road  to  South  Cyrus,  good  even 
in  early  spring.  Pilot  sped  along  over  hill  and  dale, 
now  and  then  tossing  his  beautiful  head  from  sheer 
joy,  but  otherwise  behaving  with  absolute  decorum. 
Madam  Flynt's  irritation  about  the  cloak  subsiding, 
she  began  to  enjoy  herself  thoroughly. 

"How  delightful  the  air  is!"  she  said.  "The  tang 
is  really  gone :  I  call  this  positively  balmy.  Aren't  you 
driving  very  fast,  Kitty  ?" 

"It's  just  his  usual  gait,  Madam  Flynt,"  replied 
Kitty  craftily.  "It's  partly  the  road.  Don't  you 
think  one  always  seems  to  be  going  faster  on  a  smooth 
road?" 

"That  may  be  so!"  said  Madam  Flynt  sagaciously. 
"The  road  is  certainly  excellent.  What  are  you  doing, 
Cornelia?" 

"I  was  tucking  your  feet  in,  Clarissa.  One  of  them 
was  protruding  beyond  the  robe!" 

"I  protruded  it  on  purpose!"  Madam  Flynt  spoke 
with  decision.  "It  was  too  warm.  They  are  my  feet, 
Cornelia:  I  suppose  you  will  grant  that?" 

"Willingly,   my  dear  Clarissa!" 

Seldom,  almost  never,  did  Miss  Croly  allow  any 
tinge  of  malice  to  color  speech  or  even  thought.  She 
knew  her  duty  and  intended  to  do  it,  but  her  firm- 
ness was  almost  invariably  gentle.  This  time,  how- 
ever, there  was  the  slightest  suspicion  of  meaning  in 
her  "willingly !"  Her  feet  were  her  one  beauty :  long, 

189 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


narrow,  high  of  instep.  Madam  Flynt's  were  flat  and 
pudgy. 

"Very  well !"  said  Madam  Flynt,  fully  appreciating 
the  shade  of  tone.  "Then  perhaps  you  will  let  me  man- 
age them  myself.  We'll  turn  round  at  the  heater  piece, 
Kitty,  and  come  back  over  this  same  good  road.  I  am 
enjoying  this  air  so!  The  motion  is  really  exhilarat- 
ing!" 

They  turned  at  the  heater  piece,  and  Pilot's  stride 
quickened  automatically.  (Does  every  one  know  that 
a  heater  piece  is  the  triangular  space  between  two 
branching  roads?)  He  was  still  behaving  perfectly, 
he  assured  Kitty,  but  it  was  not  in  nature  not  to  go  a 
little  faster  when  one's  head  was  turned  toward  home 
and  supper.  Kitty  explained  this  to  Madam  Flynt, 
who  replied  that  she  had  never  observed  it  before. 
Dan  was  one  of  those  rare  horses  who  can  resist  the 
call  of  the  stable  and  keep  the  same  untroubled  pace 
whichever  way  their  head  is  turned. 

"Can  you  check  the  animal,  my  love?"  quavered 
Miss  Croly,  who  had  been  secretly  alarmed  all  through 
the  drive.  "Nervousness  is  very  bad  for  our  dear 
friend;  it  induces  sleeplessness." 

"Nothing  of  the  sort,  Cornelia  Croly!"  Madam 
Flynt  became  majestic.  "I  have  every  confidence  in 
Kitty's  driving,  I  am  sure.  What — what  is  the  matter, 
my  dear?" 

Kitty  had  said  a  word  and  Pilot  stopped  suddenly, 
almost  too  suddenly  for  the  equilibrium  of  the  two 
passengers.  They  were  passing  the  Gaylord  place: 
Kitty  was  aware  of  two  figures  standing  by  the  gap  in 

190 


Pilot 

the  hedge,  one  of  which  beckoned  to  her:  Judge  Pe- 
ters and  Mr.  Mallow.  The  Judge  spoke. 

"You,  Kitty?  And  with  Pilot?  Thank  God!  Madam 
Flynt,  Miss  Croly,  your  most  obedient  servant !  do  not 
be  alarmed,  ladies,  but  this  is  a  case  of  emergency. 
Mr.  Gaylord  is  here,  seriously  ill.  Dr.  Pettijohn  must 
come  at  once.  Mr.  Mallow  was  about  to  set  out  on 
foot,  but  if  you  could  go,  Kitty?" 

"Of  course!"  cried  Kitty.  "That  is,  if  Madam 
Flynt " 

"Of  course!0  exclaimed  Madam  Flynt  in  turn. 
"Need  you  ask,  Edward?  Is  he  very  ill?" 

"Dying,  we  fear !"  The  Judge  spoke  low.  "I  must 
go  back  to  him.  Kitty,  my  child,  do  the  best  you " 

"Drive  like  hemp,  will  you,  Kitty  ?"  cried  Mr.  Mal- 
low, down  whose  rosy  cheeks  the  tears  were  stream- 
ing. ("Hemp"  was  Mr.  Mallow's  strongest  expres- 
sion: most  people  spelled  it  with  //  instead  of  mp.) 

"Oh,  yes!  yes!  Drive  as  fast  as  you  can,  Kitty!" 
cried  Madam  Flynt.  Russell  Gaylord  had  been  in 
her  Sunday  school  class,  and  she  loved  him. 

Kitty  flashed  a  glance  back. 

"Do  you  mean  it?"  she  cried.  "You  do?  Oh,  you 
darling  Thing!  Sit  tight,  then!" 

She  bent  forward  and  gave  a  long,  low,  clear  whis- 
tle. It  was  her  private  signal  to  Pilot;  it  meant  that 
there  was  a  stretch  of  good  road  ahead  and  no  one  in 
sight  to  be  shocked  or  frightened.  The  black  horse 
whinnied  a  response,  quivered,  then  sprang  forward 
literally  like  an  arrow  from  a  bow.  The  Judge  looked 

191 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


after  him  as  he  shot  down  the  road  at  a  three-minute 
gait.  A  momentary  smile  lightened  his  sad  face. 

"Poor  Madam  Flynt !"  he  said.  "Poor  Miss  Croly ! 
Come,  Marshall !"  and  they  went  back  into  the  house. 

Remember  that  for  many  years  Madam  Flynt  and 
her  companion  had  been  accustomed  to  Flanagan's 
horses,  whose  best  speed  never  exceeded  four  miles 
an  hour.  Dan's  steady  eight  had  terrified  them  at 
first;  though  they  were  now  used  to  it,  and  felt  a 
certain  pride  in  his  swiftness  as  he  trotted  sturdily 
along,  never  quickening,  never  slackening,  his  com- 
fortable stride.  Fancy,  then,  their  emotions  when,  as 
Miss  Croly  afterward  expressed  it  in  her  fervent  way, 
"the  lightning  was  unchained,  and  they  flew  with  the 
bolt  of  Heaven!" 

It  was  three  good  miles  to  Dr.  Petti  John's  house. 
Before  one  mile  was  passed,  the  two  ladies  were  per- 
fectly sure  that  Kitty  had  lost  control  of  the  horse; 
that  he  was  running  away!  They  had  heard  the  fatal 
word  "Pilot!"  Each  clutched  a  side  of  the  carriage 
with  one  hand;  the  other  clasped  that  of  her  friend. 

"Clarissa,"  murmured  Miss  Croly,  "we  are  to- 
gether in  death  as  in  life." 

"Don't  be — oh!"  Madam  Flynt  had  meant  to  say 
"absurd,"  but  at  this  moment  they  turned  off  the 
smooth  State  road  into  one  which  led  directly  past 
Dr.  Petti  John's  house.  This  road  was  an  ordinary 
country  thoroughfare,  which,  in  our  State,  in  the 
month  of  April,  is  not  smooth. 

"Oh !"  cried  Madam  Flynt,  as  they  encountered  the 
first  "honeypot."  (A  honeypot  is  a  spot  where  the 

192 


Pilot 

frost,  coming  out  of  the  ground,  leaves  behind  it  un- 
plumbed  depths  of  liquid  mud.)  Down  went  one 
wheel,  up  went  the  other. 

"Steady,  darling!"  said  Kitty. 

"Pooh!"  said  Pilot  with  one  ear,  and  was  out  and 
away  before  one  could  say  "Oats,"  much  less  "Jack 
Robinson."  Madam  Flynt's  bonnet  was  over  one  eye, 
Miss  Croly's  dangled  from  the  back  of  her  head. 

"Cornelia,"  said  Madam  Flynt,  "I  have  left  you  an 
annuity !" 

"Oh,  Clarissa !"  moaned  Miss  Croly,  "I  have  some- 
times opposed  your  wishes;  with  the  best  intent,  but 
perhaps  mistakenly.  Forgive  me!  We  will  die  to- 
gether!" 

"An  annuity,"  repeated  Madam  Flynt;  "sufficient 
to  keep  you  and  Sarah  in  the  house — oh!  as  long 
as  you  live.  Abby  Ann  has  her  brother.  The  rest 
goes  to  Kitty — Ah!" 

Another  "honeypot."  This  time  any  one  but  Kitty 
and  Pilot  would  have  thought  they  must  go  over. 

"It  is  coming!"  gasped  Miss  Croly.  "Clarissa,  fall 
on  me!  My  body  will  break  the  fall:  you  may  es- 
cape- 
Even  in  this  crisis,  Madam  Flynt's  sense  of  humor 
did  not  desert  her.  "I  don't  know  that  bones  are  any 
better  than  rocks  to  fall  on!"  she  whispered.  "Hold 
on  tight,  Cornelia!  hold  on — '—" 

But  now,  a  miracle !  They  whirled  round  a  corner, 
whirled  up  a  driveway :  a  touch  on  the  reins,  a  word, 
and  Pilot  stood,  breathing  quickly,  but  otherwise 
statue-like,  before  Dr.  Pettijohn's  door.  He  had  not 

193 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


been  running  away !  Kitty  had  had  him  in  control  all 
the  time!  In  one  thought-flash,  Miss  Croly  removed 
Joan  of  Arc  and  Mary  Stuart  from  their  pedestals  and 
set  up  Kitty  Ross  as  her  Heroine  for  all  time. 

Three  minutes  more,  and  they  were  speeding  back, 
still  at  arrow-flight.  Dr.  Pettijohn  knew  Pilot  and 
Kitty,  and  leaned  back  comfortably  on  the  front  seat, 
reflecting  that  it  was  criminal  for  such  a  horse  as 
that  to  be  owned  by  any  one  but  a  doctor.  Madam 
Flynt  resumed  her  dignity,  and  cast  a  quelling  glance 
at  Miss  Croly,  who  was  now  making  ineffective  dabs 
at  her  patroness's  bonnet  with  a  view  to  straightening 
it. 

"Let  me  alone!"  said  the  lady.  "I  prefer  it  as  it  is. 
And  hold  on,  you  ridiculous  woman!  We  are  going 
faster  than  ever,  even  if  the  animal  is  under  control." 

Kitty  was  very  sorry  about  poor  Mr.  Gaylord,  but 
she  could  not  help  realizing  that  Pilot  was  in  wonder- 
ful condition  to-day.  She  quoted  under  her  breath,  for 
Dr.  Pettijohn's  benefit: 

"I  would  not  have  the  horse  I  drive 

So  fast  that  folks  should  stop  and  stare; 
An  easy  gait, — two- forty-five — 

Suits  me;  I  do  not  care. 
Perhaps,  just  for  a  single  spurt, 

Some  seconds  less  would  do  no  hurt!" 

The  doctor  nodded. 

"Trouble  is,  Miss  Kitty,  your  track  is  too  short!" 
he  said,  as  the  Gaylord  chimneys  rose  above  the  next 
turn  of  the  road. 

194 


Pilot 

"I  know!"  Kitty  nodded  regretfully.  "He's  just 
got  warmed  up  to  his  work,  and  here  we  are!" 

Here  they  were;  turning  in  at  the  great  gateway; 
crunching  over  the  gravel;  stopping  at  the  gaunt  front 
door,  which  had  not  been  opened  in  twenty  years.  It 
opened  now,  and  Judge  Peters  stood  on  the  steps. 

"Well  done,  Kitty!"  he  exclaimed.  "Yes,  you  are 
in  time.  Come  in,  Dr.  Pettijohn.  One  moment!" 
he  bent  to  whisper  in  Kitty's  ear.  "One  more  errand 
for  you,  my  dear  brave  child!  Providence  sent  you 
to-night,  I  am  confident  of  it.  Our  poor  friend  de- 
sires greatly  to  see  your  Aunt  Johanna.  Yes!"  as 
Kitty  uttered  a  cry  of  surprise.  "They  were  friends 
in  youth;  perhaps  more  than  friends.  He  wishes  to 
take  leave  of  her.  Is  she  able  to  come,  do  you  think, 
Kitty?  Not  for  worlds  would  I  have  her  do  herself 
an  injury!" 

"Perfectly  able,  I  am  sure!  I'll  just  take  the  ladies 
home;  thank  you,  Judge  dear!" 

Pilot  did  very  well,  Kitty  thought,  to  slacken  his 
pace  so  cheerfully  the  rest  of  the  way  to  Madam 
Flynt's  house ;  even  so,  they  were  two  shaken  and  di- 
sheveled ladies  who  dismounted  at  the  stone  steps, 
and  Abby  Ann,  hurrying  out  with  the  foot-stool,  ex- 
claimed in  dismay  at  their  appearance. 

"For  the  goodness  gracious  sake,  Madam!"  she 
cried.  "Whatever  has  happened  to  your  bonnet?" 

Madam  Flynt  waved  her  aside  with  dignity  and  ad- 
dressed Kity. 

"We  have  had  a  most  interesting  drive!"  she  said. 
"I  congratulate  you,  Kitty,  on  your  skill;  and  I  am 

195 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


deeply  thankful  to  have  been  able — you  understand, 
my  dear!  Good  evening!  Cornelia,  you  are  treading 
on  my  skirt.  If  you  have  pretty  feet,  it  is  not  neces- 
sary to  trample There !  don't  mind  me !  it  was  my 

fault,  I  dare  say." 

Every  moment  of  this  evening  was  bitten  into 
Kitty's  mind,  an  ineffaceable  impression :  sharpest  and 
clearest  of  all,  the  moment  when  she  stood  faltering  in 
the  doorway  of  the  Red  Indian  Room. 

Miss  Johanna  Ross  (in  rose-color  this  time)  was 
sitting  erect  among  her  pillows,  reading  "Framley  Par- 
sonage." She  was  going  through  the  whole  Trollope 
fleet  of  "old  three-deckers"  with  infinite  enjoyment. 
Her  firm,  rather  sharp  countenance  was  relaxed  in 
lines  of  leisurely  amusement.  Looking  up,  and  meet- 
ing Kitty's  eyes,  it  waked  into  vivid  attention. 

"What's  the  matter?"  demanded  Miss  Johanna. 
"Sickness  or  accident?" 

She  had  dropped  her  book,  and  was  gathering  her 
draperies  about  her. 

"Sickness!"  Kitty  spoke  quietly,  trying  to  keep  all 
hurry  out  of  her  voice. 

"An  old  friend  of  yours,  Aunt  Johanna,  has  come 
back  and  is — is  very  ill,  I  fear.  He  would  like  to  see 
you.  It  is " 

"Russell  Gaylord!"  said  Johanna  Ross. 

The  Rosses  all  move  quickly.  "Medicated  light-* 
ning,"  people  used  to  call  Dr.  Ross,  when  he  was  sum- 
moned to  an  emergency  case.  Kitty  could  only  think 
of  this,  as  without  another  word  her  aunt  flashed 

196 


Pilot 

from,  her  pillows,  rustled  into  her  clothes,  and  with  a 
shake  of  her  shoulders  stood  alert,  able,  prepared. 

"Now,  child !"  she  pinned  on  her  veil  with  a  steady 
hand.  ''I  am  ready.  Who  sent  you?  Judge  Peters? 
Good !  and  you  have  Pilot  ?  Good  again !  we  need 
lose  no  time.  I  dreamed  last  night-— come !" 

Pilot  may  have  wondered  where  his  promised  mash 
was;  why  he  was  carefully  blanketed  for  ten  minutes, 
then  taken  out  once  more,  and  once  more  given  the 
signal  for  full  speed;  but  beyond  a  whinny  of  sur- 
prise, and  a  toss  of  his  head,  he  gave  no  sign.  Kitty's 
word  was  Pilot's  law.  Again  the  miles  sped  by;  this 
time  the  passenger  took  no  heed  of  them ;  the  pace  was 
all  too  slow  for  her.  Again  the  flying  turn,  the  crunch- 
ing gravel;  again  the  door  opening,  the  grave  figure 
hastening  down  the  steps. 

"Alive !  still  conscious !  yes !  asking  for  you.  Thank 
God  you  are  come!  The  end  is  near,  prepare  for  a 
great  change,  my  friend!" 

Shall  we  go  in  with  Johanna  Ross  to  that  room 
where  the  love  of  her  youth  lies  gasping  his  last  hour 
away?  Shall  we  look  upon  her,  kneeling  by  the  bed- 
side, holding  the  skeleton  hands,  looking  tenderly  into 
the  hollow  eyes  ?  No !  we  have  no  business  there.  We 
will  come  away,  with  the  two  faithful  friends,  who 
went,  one  to  stand  outside  the  chamber  door,  in  case 
of  need,  the  other  on  the  steps,  smoothing  Pilot's 
glossy  neck  and  exchanging  brief  snatches  of  talk  with 
Kitty;  she,  wondering,  pitying,  yet  dreading  to  touch 
upon  the  mystery  that  had  outlasted  her  young  life. 

They  were  all  at  school  together,  Mr.  Mallow  said. 
197 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


Russ  was  an  elegant  boy.  "Him  and  Johanna  was  al- 
ways together,  same  as  you  and "  Here  Mr.  Mal- 
low was  seized  with  a  prolonged  fit  of  coughing. 

"Anybody  ask  you  about  Russ  Gaylord,"  cried  the 
hotel  keeper,  "and  you  say  he  was  nobody's  enemy  but 
his  own.  Nobody's  but  his  own!  Your  father  knew 
that.  Doctor  knew  it.  'Russ,'  he'd  say,  'Stop  now! 
stop  to-day!  you  can!'  but  he  couldn't;  he  couldn't. 
The  peth  was  dead  in  him,  like  a  dozy  log.  Yes! 
Poor  Russ!  too  bad,  ain't  it?" 

"Has  he  been  ill  long,  Mr.  Mallow?"  asked  Kitty 
timidly. 

"He's  ben  ailin'  ever  sence  he  come.  Lemme  see! 
March  wasn't  it?  Yes,  March,  and  here  we  are  in 
May.  He's  ben  jest  wastin'  away,  poor  Russ  has." 

"Not — he  hasn't  been  all  alone,  has  he?"  with  a 
glance  at  the  dark,  shuttered  house,  the  tall  firs  point- 
ing spectral  fingers  at  it,  and  the  great  chestnut  tree, 
tossing  its  bare  arms  as  if  in  grief  or  horror. 

"Me  and  Ned — I  would  say  the  Jedge — has  ben 
here  all  we  could.  He  wouldn't  have  no  one  else! 
We  was  boon  companions  in  primary  school,  and  we 
kep'  right  on.  Not  in  all  ways,  is  what  I  would  say; 
there  was  p'ints — no  need  to  go  into  that !  His  heart 
was  right  in  his  boosum  all  the  time,  Russ's  was.  Now 
he  lays  there." 

Mr.  Mallow  drew  out  his  handkerchief  and  wiped 
his  eyes  simply. 

All  Cyrus  came  to  Russell  Gaylord's  funeral.  Tink- 
curiosity,  idle  or  worse,  to  see  the  great  house  open 
ham,  too,  and  Tupham.  Some,  no  doubt,  came  from 

198 


Piht 

once  more,  the  long  windows  thrown  wide,  the  sun- 
light gilding  the  mouldered  furniture  and  moth-eaten 
tapestries.  These  would  be  outsiders.  Cyrus  people 
were  full  of  sorrow  and  compassion.  They  came  in 
their  best  clothes,  Madam  Flynt  in  her  ermine  and 
velvet,  Anne  Peace  in  her  brown  Sunday  gown;  it 
was  all  they  could  do.  With  bowed  heads  they  en- 
tered the  door.  How  jovially  the  gay  young  host 
used  to  welcome  them  to  these  long  drawing-rooms! 
How  shining  and  scented  they  used  to  be,  with  lights 
and  flowers!  There  were  flowers  now.  Kitty  and 
Nelly  Chanter  had  found  enough  early  blossoms  in 
the  neglected  garden  to  make  a  wreath — only  Forsy- 
thia  and  Japanese  pear,  but  it  was  gay  and  cheerful — 
and  some  one  had  sent  a  splendid  wreath  of  passion 
flowers.  At  the  last  Johanna  Ross,  who  stood  at  the 
head  of  the  coffin,  while  Mr.  Chanter  read  the  service, 
took  the  bunch  of  violets  from  her  bosom,  and  laid 
it  over  the  dead  man's  heart. 


JOHANNA    REDIVIVA 

MISS  JOHANNA  did  not  go  back  to  bed.  She 
had  had  six  months  of  rest,  she  said,  and  that 
was  enough. 

"Besides,"  she  added,  "I  must  show  myself  for  poor 
Russell's  sake.  I  can't  have  people  saying  that  he 
ruined  my  health  for  life,  as  well  as  destroyed  my 
reason." 

She  spoke  frankly  to  Kitty,  as  they  sat  together  on 
the  leather  sofa,  the  evening  after  the  funeral. 

"That  was  why  I  went  away!"  said  Miss  Johanna. 
"We  were  very  much  in  love  with  each  other,  but  it 
was  no  use.  He  couldn't  keep  straight;  and  I  am 
not  a  fool,  Kitty.  He  wouldn't  give  me  up,  so  I  went 
away.  Wrongly,  your  little  mother  thought;  John 
knew  I  was  right.  So  there  is  all  about  that !"  Thus 
Miss  Johanna,  very  erect  on  the  sofa.  Kitty,  moving 
close  beside  her,  put  her  arm  round  her  and  laid  her 
fair  head  against  her  shoulder. 

"Thank  you,  my  dear!  yes,  it  was  hard;  almost  as 
hard  to  have  Mary  disapprove  of  me  as  to  lose  him." 
Miss  Johanna  brushed  away  a  tear,  and  frowned  at 
the  spot  on  her  handkerchief. 

"She  asked  me — little  romantic  goose  of  a  white 

200 


Johanna  Rediviva 


rose! — if  I  thought  she  would  leave  John  if  he 

'My  child,'  I  said,  'John  would  leave  you!  John 
would  allow  nothing  of  that  kind  to  come  within  sight 
or  sound  of  you.  If  he  found  he  had  to  drink,  he 
would  go  and  drink  in  the  Mammoth  Cave,  and  drop 
the  bottles  into  the  bottomless  pit.'  It  was  true ! 

"But  mind  you,  Kitty!"  Miss  Johanna  spoke  in- 
cisively, after  a  silence,  during  which  both  had  gazed 
into  the  fire  with  tear-bright  eyes.  "You  must  not 
think  I  have  mourned  for  twenty  years.  People  don't 
do  that,  not  even  women.  I  mourned  for  a  good  while, 
as  long  as  was  reasonable;  perhaps  longer.  Other- 
wise, I  have  been  a  busy  and  on  the  whole  a  contented 
woman.  Why  shouldn't  I  be?  I  have  friends  all  over 
the  country ;  I  have  had  many  pleasures ;  now,  thanks 
to  you,  my  dear  child,  I  have  a  home,  the  home  of  my 
own  childhood.  Considering  humanity  in  the  aggre- 
gate, I  have  done  extremely  well.  Extremely  well! 
A  single  woman  can  be  happy  enough,  Kitty,"  Miss 
Johanna  did  not  look  at  her  niece  as  she  spoke,  "happy 
enough  if  she  has  sense.  I  have  known  spinsters  who 
had  twice  as  many  children  as  if  they  had  borne  'em; 
and  I've  known  mothers,  dozens  of  'em,  with  hearts 
and  arms  as  empty  as  their  heads.  And  if  Sarepta 
Darwin  wants  anything,"  added  Miss  Johanna,  "I'll 
thank  her  to  put  a  name  to  it,  instead  of  clucking  and 
scuttling  out  there  in  the  hall." 

Sarepta  appeared,  and  fixed  the  speaker  with  a 
wintry  eye.  "7  don't  want  anything!"  she  said  aus- 
terely. "I  was  comin'  to  ask  whether  you  wanted 
any  supper;  that's  all.  Bell  rang  ten  minutes  ago; 

201 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


don't  make  no  odds  to  me  whether  it's  hot  or  cold." 

It  did  make  odds  to  Miss  Johanna,  however,  that 
Sarepta  had  prepared  for  supper  all  her  little  favorite 
delicacies,  down  to  the  dash  of  cinnamon  on  the  but- 
tered toast,  with  which  she  usually  "couldn't  bother." 
Late  that  evening,  when  Kitty  was  in  bed,  the  stately 
lady  crept  down  the  back  stairs  to  the  kitchen,  and 
had  a  comfortable  little  cry  with  her  old  grammar- 
school  mate,  who  in  her  grim  fashion  had  worshiped 
Russell  Gaylord  ever  since,  at  the  age  of  twelve,  he 
gave  her  a  bite  of  his  apple. 

The  next  thing,  Miss  Johanna  announced,  was  the 
Visits.  People  had  left  cards  for  her  when  she  came: 
sympathetic  cards,  inquisitive  cards,  scandalized  cards, 
as  the  case  might  be.  Now,  for  the  sake  of  things  in 
general  (and  Kitty  in  particular,  it  may  be  con- 
fessed between  author  and  reader),  Miss  Johanna  de- 
termined to  "make  her  manners,"  and  prove  her  sanity 
of  mind  and  body.  These  were  exciting  days  for  Cy- 
rus. One  hardly  dared  leave  the  house  for  fear  of 
missing  The  Call. 

"Has  she  been  to  see  you?  She  has?  Well!  how 
did  she  appear?  Was  she  flighty,  or  what  you  would 
call  reasonable?  Stylish?  Well,  you  would  expect 

that !  she  was  always  one  to  dress.    What  did  she 

oh!  broadcloth!  Well!  that  is  always  ladylike.  They 
claim  basket-weaves  are  all  the  style  now,  but  I  don't 
know.  Anyhow,  it's  something  for  her  to  be  in  her 
right  mind." 

Mrs.  Wibird  was  openly  disturbed  about  the  influ- 
ence that  Johanna  was  likely  to  exert  over  Kitty. 

202 


Johanna  Rediviva 


"While  she  was  in  her  bed,"  said  the  lady,  "it  was 
another  matter;  but  now,  the  two  of  them  together, 
and  like  that,  it's  my  fear  we  shall  see  things  that  we 
are  not  used  to  them  in  Cyrus." 

Melissa  was  on  fire  instantly. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  Mother !  What  kind 
of  things?" 

"No,  you  don't  know,  my  child ;"  Mrs.  Wibird  shook 
a  melancholy  head  over  the  bowl  in  which  she  was  mix- 
ing gingerbread.  "You  don't  know,  and  it  is  far  from 
my  wish  that  you  should."  (N.  B.  The  good  lady 
had  no  idea  herself  what  she  meant,  but  Lissy 
shouldn't  speak  back  like  that.)  "I  say  nothing; 
nothing  at  all!  I  never  do  say  anything,  as  is  well 
known.  But  take  the  way  Kitty  Ross  drives,  which  is 
in  itself  a  scandal,  be  the  other  who  it  may;  and  add  to 
it  a  person  who  has  alzuays  been  peculiar,  and  now 
little  better  than  a  lunatic,  if  all  one  hears — hand  me 
the  spice-box,  will  you,  Lissy?  You've  kned  that  dough 
enough;  you'll  take  the  courage  all  out  of  it — all  I 
say  is,  I  hope  Cyrus  will  not  rue  the  day  that  either 
one  of  them — My  gracious,  Lissy!  they're  driving  up 
to  the  door  this  minute!  Here,  take  my  apron!  No! 
You  go  to  the  door — no,  I'll  go  to  the  door  and  keep 
'em.  back  while  you  pull  up  the  parlor  curt 

"Johanna  Ross !  do  not  tell  me  this  is  you !  well ! 
well !  well !  you  are  a  stranger !  Kitty  comin'  in  ?  No ! 
the  wild  animal  wouldn't  stand,  of  course.  Terrible!" 
as  Kitty  and  Pilot  whisked  round  the  corner.  "I  ex- 
pect to  see  her  dashed  in  fragments  any  day :  any  day ! 
My  son  Wilson  nearly  met  his  death  the  night  of 

203 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


Madam  Flynt's  party.  Well,  if  this  isn't  a  sight  for 
sore  eyes.  Come  in!  Come  right  in,  Johanna!  I 
never  thought  to  be  welcoming  you  into  my  humble 
sitting-room  in  this  world !" 

The  Misses  Bygood  had  made  fitting  preparations 
to  receive  their  old  friend  and  schoolmate.  The  covers 
were  taken  off  Aunt  Messenger's  Chair  (embroidered 
by  that  lady  seventy-five  years  ago,  and  as  fresh  as 
the  day  it  was  finished,  owing  to  the  covers;  there 
were  three,  one  basted,  one  tied,  and  the  third  but- 
toned on)  ;  the  tidies  and  the  frilled  tassel-bags  were 
done  up — I  met  some  one  the  other  day  who  had  never 
heard  of  a  tassel-bag! — an  extra  touch  given  to  the 
shining  silver  and  crystal.  And  after  all  this,  Miss 
Johanna  made  her  call  in  the  shop !  One  might  have 
known  she  would !  Miss  Almeria  reflected ;  there  was 
a  shade  of  austerity  on  her  smooth  brow  as  she  ad- 
vanced to  greet  her  guest.  Miss  Johanna  was  buoy- 
ant. 

"Howdy?  howdy?"  she  cried.  "Second  call,  you 
see,  Almy!  First  call  on  Madam  Flynt,  second  on 
Miss  Bygoods:  Proprieties  of  Cyrus,  volume  i,  chap- 
ter i.  Father  down  yet?" 

Father  not  down;  it  was  early  for  him.  Egeria 
usually  brought  him  down  at  ten  o'clock.  It  was  now 
but 

"I  know!  half-past  nine.  I  came  early  on  pur- 
pose. To-morrow  Kitty  and  I  are  coming  to  the 
house  to  tea,  if  you  will  have  us,  Almy.  We  want 
the  Chair  taken  out,  and  the  tassel-bags  done  up,  and 
the  Lowestoft  cups.  I'll  wear  my  best  dress,  which 

204 


Johanna  Rediviva 


is  a  beauty.  But  now — may  I  help  you  dust?  You 
used  to  let  me — thanks?  Best  of  Almys!" 

Miss  Almeria  proffered  a  silk  duster  with  fingers 
that  trembled  slightly.  She  and  Johanna  Ross  had 
been  intimates  in  girlhood;  she  had  found  it  hard  to 
forgive  the  slight  put  upon  Cyrus  by  her  friend  in 
leaving  it  with  no  word  of  explanation.  She  now 
felt  that  there  had  been  extenuating  circumstances. 
She  had  never  thought  to  have  Johanna  dusting  with 
her  again. 

For  some  minutes  they  plied  their  delicate  task  in 
silence;  then: 

"My  stars!"  cried  Miss  Johanna.  She  turned  with 
shining  eyes,  holding  up  a  book.  "Almeria!  here  is 
'Guy  Livingstone'  behind  the  Manila  envelopes,  where 
I  dropped  him  twenty  years  ago  when  you  wanted  to 
burn  him.  Precious  tome!  untidy  girl!  Where  is 
your  housekeeping?" 

Her  laugh  rang  out  triumphantly;  a  delightful 
laugh,  clear  and  bell-like  as  Kitty's  own. 

Miss  Almeria  laughed,  too.  "I  think  you  will  find 
no  dust  on  the  volume,  Johanna !"  she  said  demurely. 
"I  never  thought  it  suitable  for  general  circulation, 
as  you  are  aware,  but " 

Miss  Johanna  gave  her  a  kind  glance. 

"But  you  kept  it  for  naughty  Johanna's  sake !  That 
was  very  sweet  of  you,  Almy.  I'll  take  it  with  me 
now,  if  you  don't  mind.  Ah !  'I  know  men  who  would 
have  given  five  years  of  life  for  the  whisper  that  glided 
into  his  ear  as  he  gave  Miss  Bellasys  her  candle  on 
retiring,  ten  for  the  Parthian  glance  that  shot  its  ar- 

205 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


row  home.'     Now  that  is  the  way  to  write,  Almeria 
Bygood!     Nobody  writes  like  that  nowadays." 

Then  with  an  abrupt  change  of  tone,  "I  wanted  to 
ask  you  one  or  two  things,  Almy.  You  have  sense, 
even  if  you  don't  appreciate  'Guy  Livingstone.'  Peo- 
ple like  my  Kitty,  do  they,  Almeria?" 

"Can  you  doubt  it,  Johanna?  She  is  the  idol  of 
Cyrus.  I  express  myself  too  strongly!"  Miss  Al- 
meria corrected  herself:  "idolatry  is  not  a — senti- 
ment which — everybody  loves  her,  Johanna!  Who 
could  possibly  help  it?  She  is  the  light  of  the  place!" 

The  touch  of  frost  melted  away,  and  Miss  Almeria 
glowed  with  tenderness. 

"Good!"  Miss  Johanna  nodded  approbation.  "She 
ought  to  be !  She  is  a  blessed  little  Christmas  candle ! 
And — a — about  the  driving,  Almy!  It  hasn't — eh? 
People  don't  think — you  know  what  I  mean !" 

"Perfectly!"  Miss  Almeria  bent  her  stately  head  in 
comprehension.  "At  first,  Johanna,  there  were  a  few 
criticisms;  only  a  few,  and  those  not  from  persons 
whose  opinions  carry  any  weight  in  the  community. 
In  general,  Kitty  has  had  from  the  first  the  respect 
as  well  as  the  affection  of  Cyrus.  Her  course  was 
unusual,  but  the  circumstances  were  unusual.  You 
need  have  no  fear,  Johanna!" 

"Because  of  course,"  Miss  Johanna  paused  to 
straighten  a  calendar  which  was  hanging  awry;  "of 
course  there  is  no  need  of  her  driving,  you  know, 
Almy!" 

"No  need?"  repeated  Miss  Almeria. 

"None  in  the  world!     I  have  done  very 
206 


Johanna  Rediviva 


have  plenty  for  both  of  us.  But  it  was  so  good  for 
her,  and  she  was  enjoying  it  so,  I  hadn't  the  heart  to 
say  'Stop!  Sit  down,  fold  your  hands,  be  a  Young 
Lady  of  Cyrus' — Beg  pardon,  Almy!  You  know  I 
always  loved  it,  if  it  did  stifle  me! — when  she  was  so 
gallant  and  having  such  a  wonderful  time.  I  pay 
enough  to  make  it  easy  for  her,  with  the  business,  you 
see.  A  single  woman  without  a  trade  is  a  dog  with- 
out a  tail,  my  dear;  you  know  that!  What  are  you 
flashing  at,  Almeria  Bygood?  Have  people  been  say- 
ing— tJiey  have!  Transparency,  thy  name  is  Almy! 
They  have  been  saying  that  I  am — I  suppose  you 
would  never  speak  to  me  again  if  I  should  say  'bum- 
ming' on  Kitty!" 

"The  expression  is  new  to  me!"  Miss  Almeria  stiff- 
ened for  an  instant,  then  flashed  again. 

"Of  course,  Josie — "  the  diminutive  slipped  out 
unaware — "Egeria  and  I — in  fact,  all  your  friends 
knew  it  was  absurd  to  suppose  for  a  moment  that — 
that  you  would  think  of  any  such  thing;  but — well, 
you  know  there  are  persons,  even  in  Cyrus,  of  sus- 
picious nature;  in  short,  my  dear,  I  am  glad  to  be 
able  to  make  a  positive  statement  to  the  effect " 

"Ah,  but  you  aren't!"  Johanna  Ross  turned  a  face 
a-twinkle  with  mischief. 

"You  aren't  able  to  make  any  statement  at  all, 
Almy.  I  don't  authorize  it!  No!"  as  Miss  Almeria 
exclaimed,  protesting.  "You  are  not  to  say  a  single 
word.  Let  Cyrus  sup  full  on  my  iniquities !  My  dear 
soul,  when  I  say  Cyrus  in  this  sense,  of  course  I  mean 
the  Sharpes,  and  I  know  as  well  as  you  that  they  are 

207 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


really  Tinkham.  So — Ah!  here  is  Mr.  Bygood! 
Good  morning,  Mr.  Bygood!  What  can  I  offer  you 
this  morning?  Something  in  the  fancy  line,  my  dear 
Sir?  A  looking-glass  is  what  you  need,  to  see  how 
handsome  you  are.  Oh !  oh !  if  here  is  not  Marsh  Mal- 
low! Marshall,  how  do  you  do?  How  do  you  spell 
'fish'  nowadays?  Do  you  remember,  Almy?  He 
thought  'Psyche'  was  the  queerest  way  of  spelling 
'fish'  that  ever  he  saw.  Ha !  ha !" 

Judge  Peters  was  late  that  morning.  He  had  been 
detained  by  various  petty  annoyances.  First  he  had 
cut  his  chin  while  shaving;  then  Mary  wanted  to  talk 
about  the  price  of  eggs,  which  was  a  scandal,  and  to 
explain  at  length  why  there  had  been  a  button  off  his 
shirt  last  week.  A  client  had  come  blundering  to  the 
house  instead  of  the  office — most  annoying! — with  a 
flood  of  questions  about  stumpage  and  flowage,  and 
a  torrent  of  asseverations  that  he  wasn't  goin'  to  be 
put  upon,  nobody  needn't  think  he  was.  No  1'ywer 
had  ever  got  the  better  of  him  yet,  his  teeth  was  all 
eye-teeth,  and  he  didn't  cut  'em  yesterday  neither,  no, 
sir!  Etc.,  etc.,  etc.  Altogether  the  Judge  had  been 
tried,  and  was  in  great  need  of  his  morning  paper, 
and  a  few  minutes  of  sedate  chat  at  Bygoods'  before 
going  to  his  office.  On  entering  the  familiar  door  he 
started ;  absolutely  started !  the  quiet  place  was  a-bub- 
ble  with  laughter.  Mr.  Bygood's  high  "Te-hee!  oh, 
very  neat!  very  neat!  te-hee!"  quavered  above  the 
rest,  but  they  were  all  laughing.  Miss  Almeria's  blue 
eyes  were  flashing  with  merriment,  Miss  Egeria's 
beaming  softly,  as  she  murmured,  "Most  diverting,  I 

208 


Johanna  Rediviva 


am  sure!"  Mr.  Jordano  was  waving  his  notebook  in 
a  state  of  excited  rapture,  while  Mr.  Mallow,  his  head 
thrown  back,  uttered  sonorous  bellows  of  laughter. 
Miss  Johanna  was  telling  stories.  Standing  erect,  her 
back  against  the  counter,  trim  and  elegant  in  her  pur- 
ple broadcloth,  she  held  them  all  spellbound.  Her 
dark  eyes  shot  sparkles  of  mirth;  her  whole  counte- 
nance was  alight  with  fun  and  mischief.  At  sight  of 
the  Judge's  grave  face  in  the  doorway,  a  shadow  swept 
over  her  own  for  a  moment ;  their  looks  crossed  grave- 
ly, not  like  swords;  say,  like  heralds'  staves!  Next 
moment  the  lady  was  laughing  again. 

"Come  in,  Judge !"  she  cried.  "Come  in,  Edward ! 
Here  I  am,  Johanna  rediviva!  We  are  having  a  By- 
good  reunion.  There  is  one  new  boy!"  she  flashed 
a  smile  at  Mr.  Jordano,  reducing  him  to  the  verge  of 
fatuous  idiocy;  "the  rest  of  us  are  all  Bygood  chil- 
dren, and  Mr.  Bygood  is  going  to  call  the  spelling 
class  this  minute.  Go  away,  Kitty!"  as  Kitty's  won- 
dering face  peeped  in  at  the  door.  "This  isn't  the 
infant  class.  You  are  not  born  or  thought  of  yet. 
Drive  up  and  down  the  street  a  couple  of  times,  will 
you,  my  dear?  Or — say  you  meet  me  at  Cheeseman's 
in  fifteen  minutes!  I  want  some  lemon  drops." 

Kitty,  with  a  nod  of  comprehension,  sped  away; 
a  little  lonely  at  heart,  seeing  them  all  so  merry. 
Youth  was  a  sad  time,  it  seemed;  when  one  was  en- 
tirely used  to  it,  it  would  be  different,  she  supposed. 
Then  she  caught  sight  of  Lissy  Wibird  and  Nelly 
Chanter  posting  along  the  street,  laden  with  parcels 
from  the  General  Store  (Adamses'  had  no  delivery;  if 

209 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


folks  wanted  things,  they  could  come  and  get  'em, 
was  their  view).  Joyously  signaling,  Kitty  drew  up 
at  the  curbstone ;  swept  the  girls  and  their  parcels  into 
the  wagon,  and  took  them  for  a  "perfectly  delirious 
spin,"  as  Nelly  called  it,  along  the  Tupham  Causeway. 
It  was  nearer  half  an  hour  than  fifteen  minutes  be- 
fore she  drew  up  at  Cheeseman's,  her  pocket  full  of 
apologies  for  keeping  her  aunt  waiting ;  when,  behold, 
the  said  aunt  coming  slowly  down  the  street,  Judge 
Peters  beside  her.  The  laughter  had  died  out  of  Miss 
Johanna's  face;  she  looked  gravely  downward,  listen- 
ing to  her  companion,  whose  face  was  equally  grave. 
Kitty  wondered ;  might  have  wondered  more,  had  she 
overheard  their  words. 

"I  shall  come  very  soon!"  said  the  Judge.  "You 
will  find  me  unchanged,  Johanna,  in  every  respect." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  it,  Edward !"  Miss  Johanna  gave 
a  glance  half  sad,  half  quizzical,  at  the  Judge's  hand- 
some iron-gray  hair;  "I  have  never  found  the  Foun- 
tain of  Youth;  I  am  an  old  woman,  simply  and 
frankly." 

"You  are  pleased  to  say  so !"  the  Judge  bowed  cour- 
teously. "I  have  never  measured  sentiment  by  the  cal- 
endar; nor  do  I  find,"  the  Judge's  deep  voice  trem- 
bled slightly,  "that  Memory  has  lost  any  of  her  charm. 
With  your  permission,  Johanna,  I  will  call  to-morrow 
evening." 

"Oh,  dear!"  sighed  Miss  Johanna.  "Yes,  do,  Ed- 
ward; I  shall  be  delighted  to  see  you,  and  so  will 
Kitty.  Here  I  am,  child !  Had  you  given  me  up  ?  We 
had  to  recite  our  history  lesson,  as  well  as  spelling. 

210 


Johanna  Rediviva 


'King  Canute  reproved  his  flatterers  and  bade  them 
perceive  that  he  was  unable  to  keep  back  the  rising 
tide '  " 

"Quite  so!"  said  the  Judge.  "I  wish  you  good 
morning,  Johanna.  Kitty,  my  love,  your  most 
obedient !" 

"Oh,  dear!"  sighed  Miss  Johanna  again  as  they 
entered  the  shop.  "What  is  it  Peggotty  says?  'Drat 
the  man !'  Oh,  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Cheeseman  ?  You 
have  been  growing  steadily  younger  for  twenty  years, 
I  do  believe!" 


CHAPTER  XV 

LARGELY  LITERARY 

PEOPLE  do!"  said  Kitty 
"Do  what?"  asked  Dan  in  an  affectionate 
sniff.     "Give  a  person  an  apple?" 

"Yes,  my  Angel  Poppet!" 

Kitty  reached  for  an  apple — John  Tucker  kept  a 
shelf  of  them  handy  by  the  stalls — gave  it  to  Dan 
and  ate  one  herself  for  company. 

(There  should  be  a  digression  here  on  Kitty  eating 
an  apple;  how  she  succeeded  in  looking  prettier  than 
usual  during  the — as  a  rule — unbecoming  process; 
how  daintily  she  set  her  teeth  into  it,  taking  little 
pretty  bites;  how  well  her  teeth  matched  the  clear 
white  as  it  broke  crisply  from  the  red.  If  Dan  were 
writing  this  story,  he  would  make  such  digression ! ) 

"There  is  no  need  of  snorting  and  sneezing  over 
every  crunch,  Beloved !  I  know  it  is  good :  apples  in 
May !  John  Tucker  is  very  extravagant.  But  I  meant 
matchmaking,  Daniel  dear.  Do  you  think  it  is  ever 
allowable?" 

Daniel  refused  to  commit  himself;  hinted  delicately 
that  another  apple  might  aid  him  in  forming  an  opin- 
ion. 

"You  see — "  Kitty  did  not  speak  aloud;  she  was 

212 


Largely  Literary 


sure  Dan  understood  pats  just  as  well — "you  see,  Be- 
loved, there  is  no  sense  in  Bobby's  going  about  look- 
ing sorrowful,  when  there  is  a  perfectly  dear,  sweet 
girl,  worth  three  of  me,  who — well,  I  know  what  I 
think,  Dan  dear !  and  I  won't  say  I  am  probably  mis- 
taken as  her  mother  does — and  is! — and  they  are  both 
just  as  nice  as  they  can  be,  you  know  they  are,  and 
just  the  right  age  for  each  other,  and  he  two  inches 
taller  and  all ;  and  I  do  think  she  has  a  rather  horrid 
time  at  home,  Dan  dear!  Just  think  of  having  to  live 
perpetually  with  the  tenth  and  last  Wilson  Wimber- 
ley  Wibird!  Poor  creature;  I  wonder  what  Mr.  Jor- 
dano  said  to  him  that  day!  He  has  not  been  near  me 
since.  And  Mrs.  Wibird  is  pretty  lamenting,  some- 
how; oh  dear!  and  I'm  afraid  they  haven't  much  to 
do  with,  Dan  dear!" 

Dan  nodded  thrice  at  this,  whereupon  Kitty  told 
him  he  was  a  gossip,  and  she  wondered  at  him ;  kissed 
his  velvet  nose  and  departed,  thoughtful.  She  was 
on  her  way  to  the  Library,  to  get  books  for  Aunt 
Johanna,  that  lady  being  in  frivolous  mood,  and  de- 
manding certain  mid-Victorian  novels  which,  when 
published,  had  caused  Shudders.  It  was  natural  to 
step  into  the  stable;  she  almost  always  did,  whenever 
she  was  going  out,  in  whatever  direction.  It  seemed 
also  natural  (at  least  it  had  grown  to  be  no  uncommon 
thing)  that  Bobby  Chanter  should  join  her  at  the 
corner  and  be  going  to  the  Library,  too.  Wednes- 
day, he  explained,  looking  rather  sheepish;  funny 
thing,  but  there  were  some  books  they  had  here  that 
the  college  library  did  not  possess.  They  paced  along 

213 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


together,  the  two  young  creatures,  talking  quietly  of 
books.  Bobby  did  not  care  much  for  books,  but  Kitty 
liked  them,  he  knew.  What  had  he  been  reading? 
she  asked.  Besides  study  books,  of  course!  They 
took  most  of  his  time,  no  doubt,  but  one  had  always 
to  have  a  book  on  hand. 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  Bobby  rather  forlornly.  "I've  got 
a  book;  Mother  gave  it  to  me  at  Christmas.  I've 
read  quite  a  lot  of  it.  I  don't  remember  its  name.  I'm 
not  sure  who  wrote  it ;  think  it  was  a  chap — oh !  here 
we  are!" 

Could  it  be  possible  that  Bobby  felt  for  once  the 
slightest  shade  of  relief  on  arriving  at  the  Library? 
Kitty  knew  such  an  awful  lot!  he  reflected  ruefully, 
and  he  was  such  a  duffer ! 

At  sight  of  the  pair,  Melissa  looked  up,  and  blushed 
as  pink  as  the  ribbon  at  her  neat  collar.  Melissa  was 
very  pretty  when  she  blushed,  Kitty  thought;  a  little 
color  was  all  she  needed;  how  unreasonable  that  one 
could  not  paint  without  immediately  adding  "Jezebel" 
to  one's  name ! 

"'Breaking  a  Butterfly,'  Lissy,  please!  Now  don't 
tell  me  you  never  heard  of  it,  because  I  am  perfectly 
sure  Bobby  never  did,  and  that  makes  three  of  us." 

"I  never  did,  Kitty,  honestly  I  didn't.  I  don't  be- 
lieve it's  in  the  library,  unless  it  is  one  of  those  old, 
old  ones  that  haven't  been  catalogued  yet.  Old  Mrs. 
Spooner  left  them  to  us,  you  know.  They  are  in  the 
inner  room,  waiting  to  be  catalogued.  I  can't  seem  to 
get  time " 

"I'll  go  look;  may  I?  And,  oh,  Bobby,  do  you 
214 


Largely  Literary 


want  to  be  a  perfect  angel  and  look  up  Orchis  Specta- 
bilis  in  Gray  ?  We  had  such  a  dispute  last  night,  Aunt 
Johanna  and  I!  She  says  its  habitat  is — well,  find 
out  for  me,  there's  a  dear!" 

Kitty  vanished  into  the  inner  room,  leaving  the 
other  two  staring  blankly  at  each  other. 

"Spec — what  did  she  say,  Bobby?" 

"Spectabilis!"  Bobby  spoke  hardily,  as  became  a 
Corona  senior,  though  he  had  not  "taken"  Latin  since 
his  first  year  in  High  School.  "Respectable,  I  think 
it  means;  something  bound  in  gray,  she  said.  Let's 
see  what  there  is  in  gray,  Lissy!  Here's  the  Life  of 
Hannah  More;  that  would  be  respectable,  what?" 

"I  don't  believe  she  means  that !" 

Melissa  was  fluttering  very  prettily.  It  was  a  most 
wonderful  thing  to  be  alone  with  Bobby  in  the  Li- 
brary, where  she  so  often  dreamed  of  him,  little  wist- 
ful gray  dreams  with  only  here  and  there  a  gleam 
of  rose-color!  How  tall  he  was,  how  handsome,  how 
strong!  how  like  that  beautiful  bust!  and  Melissa 
glanced  at  the  Olympian  Hermes.  Well,  Bobby's  hair 
did  curl,  but  otherwise 

"I  don't  believe  she  means  that,"  Melissa  repeated. 
"Nobody  has  ever  taken  that  out  since  I've  been  here. 
I  looked  into  it  once,  dusting,  you  know;  it  looked 

awfully  poky.  Perhaps "  Melissa  put  forth  the 

suggestion  timidly,  "she  meant  Gray  was  the  person 
who  wrote  it.  There's  the  Elegy,  you  know!" 

"Of  course!"  Bobby  responded  heartily.  "Sure 
thing !  'Curfew  shall  not  ring  to-night !'  We  learned 
that  at  High  School,  didn't  we,  Lissy?"  He  smiled 

215 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


kindly  on  the  girl.    "Gray's  the  chap;  trot  him  out!" 

Melissa  had  not  the  heart  to  correct  him.  How 
could  she?  Why  should  she?  Men  didn't  have  to 
know  poetry,  except  ministers,  she  supposed,  and  the 
like  of  that.  She  meekly  brought  the  works  of 
Thomas  Gray,  and  they  looked  through  them  together, 
making  a  very  pretty  picture,  Kitty  thought,  as  she 
peeped  through  the  crack  of  the  door.  Bobby's  fair 
hair — all  men  ought  to  have  fair  hair,  of  course — was 
bent  over  Melissa's  little  dark  head,  both  looking  at 
the  same  page.  He  sighed,  which  Kitty  thought  dis- 
tinctly encouraging. 

"Seems  rather  piffle,  doesn't  it?"  asked  the  youth 
dolefully,  looking  up  from  "The  Progress  of  Poesy." 
"Kitty  knows  an  awful  lot  about  books,  doesn't  she, 
Lissy?  I  suppose  you  do,  too!" 

"Oh,  no !"  Melissa  replaced  Gray  with  a  look  of  re- 
lief. "I  ought  to,  Bobby,  but  I  don't.  I  love  a  good 
story,  and  I  read  travels  some,  and  the  like  of  that, 
but — oh,  no!  I  don't  begin — why,  Kitty  ought  to  be 
librarian  here,  by  good  rights.  She  knows  an  awful 
lot,  simply  awful.  Why,  she  takes  out  books  that  no 
one  else  ever  looks  at,  and  reads  'em  same  as  she 
would  a  detective  story.  Have  you  read  'The  Hollow 
Needle,'  Bobby?" 

"Yes!  Great,  isn't  it?  Say,  have  you  got  any  of 
his  stuff?  You  never  can  get  hold  of  one  at  Corona; 
they're  out  all  the  time.  That  chap  is  top-hole,  no 
mistake." 

When  Kitty  next  peeped  out,  the  two  were  sur- 
rounded by  the  works  of  a  certain  popular  author. 

216 


Largely  Literary 

Bobby  was  discoursing  upon  their  various  merits, 
Melissa  hanging  on  his  words.  Should  she  slip  away 
and  leave  them  together?  Perhaps  hardly,  the  first 
time.  A  glance  at  the  clock  showed  that  it  was  nearly 
closing  time;  at  the  same  moment  voices  were  heard 
in  the  entrance  hall.  Kitty  slipped  back  into  the 
main  room  and  joined  her  two  companions  in  time  to 
greet  Nelly  Chanter  and  an  attendant  swain,  also  a 
Corona  student,  who  came  in  quest  of  "something 
good  to  read!"  Nelly  fell  instantly  into  what  Kitty 
and  I  called  Chanterics,  embracing  her  friend  with 
an  ardor  which  made  the  two  youths  blink  and  blush. 

"You  darling  Thing!  I  haven't  seen  you  for  forty 
years !  Between  my  teaching  and  your  driving,  Kitty, 
I  never  see  you!  Except  when  you  pick  me  up  and 
give  me  a  delicious  turn,  like  an  Angel,  as  you  did 
the  other  day.  How  do,  Lissy?  How  do,  Bobby? 
Kitty,  this  is  Mr.  Myers,  Bobby's  roommate.  He 
was  at  the  Party,  you  know.  Oh,  and  let  me  intro- 
duce Miss  Wibird,  Joe !  I  never  do  know  how  to  in- 
troduce, do  you  ?  he !  he !  I  should  have  introduced  him 
to  her,  shouldn't  I,  Kitty?" 

"We  might  all  begin  over  again,"  said  Kitty.  "I 
am  sure  Mr.  Chanter  has  never  been  introduced  to  me ! 
Air.  Chanter,  I  am  glad  to  have  the  honor  of  making 
your  acquaintance!" 

It  takes  little  to  amuse  Youth.  The  Library,  for- 
tunately empty  of  readers,  rang  with  shouts  of  glee. 

"Isn't  she  killing?"  whispered  Nelly  to  her  com- 
panion. "She's  just  as  witty  as  she  can  be,  all  the 
time.  She  knows  a  most  terrible  lot,  too,  but  you'd 

217 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


never  know  it,  she's  so  darling  and  nice.  Kitty,  do 
tell  us  something  good  to  read !  Not  deep  things,  you 
know.  Mr.  Myers  has  to  read  enough  deep  things  at 
Corona,  don't  you,  Mr.  Myers?  Ha!  ha!" 

Kitty  laughed  bravely  with  them,  wondering  why 
she  was  not  amused.  She  must  be  growing  old.  She 
named  at  random  the  latest  work  of  a  great  English 
novelist.  Nelly  exclaimed  in  dismay. 

"Oh,  Kitty,  that's  awfully  deep,  you  know  it  is. 
Why,  it's  just  full  of  religion  and  politics.  Isn't  there 
anything  of  Summer  Sweeting's  in?  Don't  you  love 
her  books?  I  cried  quarts  over  'My  Burnished  Dove' : 
perfect  quarts!  Do  you  think  Summer  Sweeting  is 
her  own  name  or  a  nom  de  plume?" 

"Too  much  sweetening  for  me !"  said  Bobby  gruffly : 
one  didn't  have  to  make  believe  when  it  was  one's 
sister.  "I  wouldn't  give  one  of  Sherlock  Holmes  for 
all  she  ever  wrote." 

"That's  right!"  chimed  in  Mr.  Myers.  "I  don't 
stand  for  crying  when  you  don't  have  to,  what  ?" 

"Oh,  Joe!  I  love  a  sweet,  sad  book!  Don't  you 
love  a  sweet,  sad  book,  Kitty?  Who  is  your  -favorite 
author,  Joe  ?  I've  often  meant  to  ask  you." 

Unconsciously,  Nelly's  voice  dropped  a  little;  her 
blue  eyes  rested  tenderly  on  the  open  countenance  of 
Mr.  Myers,  known  to  his  mates  as  "Jometry  Joe," 
owing  to  certain  exploits  of  his  in  the  region  of  higher 
mathematics.  Mr.  Myers  looked  thoughtful. 

"Of  course,  Ralph  Henry  Barbour  used  to  be,"  he 
said,  "and  they're  ripping  good  books  still,  but  I  sup- 
pose I  read  more  novels  now.  I  guess  there's  no  one 

218 


Largely  Literary 

to  beat  old  Sherlock,  though  Fu  Manchu  runs  him 
close." 

The  talk  ranged  far  and  wide  through  the  realm  of 
"Thrillers."  At  five  o'clock,  Kitty  proposed  that  they 
should  all  come  home  with  her  for  a  cup  of  tea  and 
some  of  Sarepta's  scones,  which  she  had  just  been 
baking. 

Accordingly,  they  closed  the  Library,  with  much 
merriment  of  mock  formality  and  many  friendly  gibes 
from  the  lads  at  the  Learned  Ladies  of  Cyrus.  Nelly's 
swain  understood  that  Miss  Wibird  read  the  Encyclo- 
pedia through  every  year;  was  that  so?  Yes,  Bobby 
assured  him ;  but  Miss  Ross  went  her  one  better,  and 
read  it  in  French.  Haw !  haw !  New  shouts  of  mirth 
from  both  gentlemen  at  these  subtle  witticisms;  tink- 
ling peals  of  laughter  from  Melissa  and  Nelly.  Kitty 
laughed,  too,  feeling  motherly  and  benignant.  What 
babes  they  were ! 

"But  I  keep  my  accounts  in  Russian/'  she  said 
gravely,  "and  say  my  prayers  in  Siamese." 

"Haw,  haw!  Oh,  I  say!"  gasped  the  collegians. 
"That  is  rich !  Russian  and  Siamese !  I  bet  she  does, 
what?" 

Crossing  the  Common,  the  path  narrowed,  so  that 
only  two  could  walk  abreast.  Half  consciously,  Kitty 
stepped  ahead ;  the  others  followed,  two  by  two.  This 
being  seen  of  John  Tucker,  who  chanced  to  be  exer- 
cising Pilot  at  the  moment,  that  calm  personage 
straigthway  seemed  to  fall  into  a  rage.  He  muttered 
a  pious  execration  and  unconsciously  tightened  the 

219 


reins;  Pilot  shot  ahead  like  a  rocket,  demanding  with 
ears  and  voice  to  know  what  was  the  matter. 

"Stiddy,  boy!  stiddy!"  muttered  John  Tucker. 
"Ca'm  down,  now.  I  didn't  mean  to  rouse  ye  up. 
Them  young  idjits!  lettin'  her  walk  alone,  and  strut- 
tin'  an'  gigglin'  along  with  Lissy  Wibird  and  Nell 
Chanter — great  hemlock!  Well,  stretch  out  a  bit  if 
you're  a  mind  to;  do  us  both  good,  I  expect." 

Sarepta  Darwin,  paring  apples  at  the  kitchen  win- 
dow, saw  the  little  procession  coming  across  the  Com- 
mon. A  spark  crept  into  her  pale  blue  eyes;  she 
dropped  her  knife  and  hastened  to  the  front  of  the 
house.  When  Kitty,  still  motherly  and  benignant,  led 
her  guests  up  the  front  garden  path,  the  door  opened ; 
Sarepta  stood  there,  erect,  austere,  as  if  she  opened 
the  door  invariably,  instead  of  on  the  rare  occasions 
when  she  happened  to  feel  like  it. 

"Why,  Sarepta,  how  nice  of  you!"  said  Kitty,  sur- 
prised "Did  you  see  us  coming?  This  way,  boys 
and  girls!" 

She  was  about  to  enter  the  sitting-room,  but  Sarepta 
intervened. 

"This  way!"  she  said  briefly,  and  indicated  the 
Other  Parlor,  across  the  hall.  Now  the  Other  Parlor 
was  a  charming  room  in  itself:  with  delicate  mold- 
ings, and  hangings  of  rose-color  and  pale  gray;  with 
cases  of  family  miniatures,  and  delightful  old  pastels; 
but  somehow,  one  did  not  sit  there  often;  it  was  just 
a  shade  formal,  a  trifle  austere.  And  after  all,  why 
should  one  ever  sit  anywhere  except  in  the  Sitting 
Room?  Kitty  opened  her  eyes  wide  with,  "Why, 

220 


Largely  Literary 


Sarepta?"  but  encountered  a  glance  of  such  icy  com- 
mand that  as  she  told  Nelly  afterward,  she  could  hear 
the  ice  crackling  in  her  spinal  marrow. 

"This  way!"  repeated  Sarepta.  "Your  aunt  has 
company  in  there!"  And  as  Kitty,  wondering  more 
and  more,  shepherded  the  young  people  meekly  into 
the  Other  Parlor,  a  steely  whisper  hissed  in  her  ear, 
"Judge  Peters — on  business !" 


CHAPTER  XVI 

PSYCHO-CARDIAC   PROCESSES 

KITTY  was  so  pleased  with  her  little  party,  and 
so  interested  in  seeing  how  many  cheesecakes 
and  hot  scones  the  boys  could  eat  ("There 
were  four  dozen  of  them  cakes,  I  counted  as  I  laid 
them  out,"  Sarepta  announced  grimly  at  supper. 
"There's  one  apiece  left  for  you  two  folks,  and  that's 
all  there  is.  If  I  was  their  Mas,  I'd  give  'em  a  por- 
tion of  physic  and  put  'em  to  bed!")  that  she  hardly 
noticed  Judge  Peters' s  quiet  departure.  When  the 
young  people  reluctantly  followed  a  little  later,  Kitty 
stood  at  the  window  of  the  Other  Parlor,  watching 
them  with  shining  eyes.  Melissa  and  Bobby  walked 
together;  well,  they  had  to,  of  course,  with  that  nice 
Myers  boy  so  wrapped  up  in  Nelly;  dear  Nelly! 
Kitty  was  so  glad !  But  Bobby's  back  was  really  in- 
terested, his  shoulders  most  attentive;  and  he  did  not 
once  turn  round  to  see  if  she  were  standing  at  the 
window.  He  always  had,  up  to  now,  though  of 
course  she  never  let  him  see  her.  Now — of  course 
he  would  walk  home  with  Lissy ;  and  then — there  was 
no  train  back  to  Corona  before  the  eight-thirty — if 
Lissy  would  only  ask  him  in  to  supper ! 

"Because,"  said  Kitty  aloud,  "you  see,  if  one  could 
222 


Psycho-Cardiac  Processes 


make  some  one  else — some  two  else — happy,  perhaps 
it  would  not  hurt  so  much;  do  you  think?" 

Lissy  did  ask  him  in  to  supper,  in  a  rapture  of  wish- 
fulness,  in  an  anguish  of  terror  lest  there  should  not 
be  enough,  lest  he  should  not  like  creamed  fish  and 
baked  potatoes.  Bobby  hesitated,  guessed  the  folks 
were  expecting  him  at  home;  caught  the  glance  of 
the  sweet  brown  eyes,  and  yielded.  There  was 
enough;  the  simple  refection  proved  to  be  his  favorite 
supper.  He  ate  as  if  cheesecakes  and  scones  had 
never  existed  for  him;  ate  till  Lissy  glowed  with  de- 
light over  her  own  humming-bird's  portion;  till  even 
Mrs.  Wibird  felt  a  thin  stream  of  cordiality  stealing 
through  her  poor  chilly  little  heart,  and  fetched  the 
plateful  set  aside  for  Wilson,  mentally  promising  him 
"a  good  scramble,"  which  he  really  liked  better. 

"Gee !"  said  Master  Bobby,  surveying  the  total  resi- 
due of  two  primes  and  one  molasses  cooky,  as  he 
pushed  his  chair  back;  "I  hope  Wilse  gets  supper  with 
I'ncle  Marsh,  Mrs.  Wibird.  I  don't  seem  to  have  left 
much,  do  I?  Mother  always  says  my  legs  are  hol- 
low !" 

Still  with  that  thread  of  warmth  curling  about  her 
heart,  Mrs.  Wibird  hesitated  a  moment  after  leaving 
the  table.  For  the  first  time  (except  a  brief  space 
when  Lissy  had  croup)  her  house  of  maternal  in- 
stinct was  divided  against  itself.  She  had  always  sac- 
rificed Lissy,  as  she  had  herself,  to  every  wish  of  her 
son's.  Wilson  was  so  particular,  he  had  to  have 
things  just  so,  or  it  went  to  his  liver,  and  made  him 
bilious!  He  commonly  occupied  the  sitting-room  in 

223 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


the  evening;  he  let  her  and  Melissa  creep  in  with  their 
sewing,  and  sit  in  the  corner,  but  callers  disturbed  him. 
Could  she — how  could  she? 

She  glanced  at  Bobby,  cheerfully  unconscious ;  then 
at  her  daughter,  flushing,  fluttering,  the  meek  little 
drudge  transfigured  for  the  moment.  Her  own  youth 
rose  up  within  her  and  struck. 

"You  take  Robert  into  the  sitting-room,  Lissy !"  she 
said.  "You  can  light  the  stove  if  it's  chilly.  I'll  wash 
the  dishes;  you  go  right  along!" 

Oh,  blissful  hour  in  the  little  stuffy  sitting-room, 
which  yet  was  chilly  this  May  evening!  Oh,  friendly 
blinking  of  that  one  red  eye  of  the  baseburner  stove ! 
Bobby,  comforted  by  supper,  conscious  of  tender  sym- 
pathy fluttering  by  his  side  in  the  low  rocking  chair, 
waxed  confidential;  told  of  college  pranks,  of  con- 
tests on  ball  fields  and  on  the  river.  Lissy  hung  on  his 
lips:  her  own  were  parted,  her  breath  came  quick; 
she  thought  he  must  hear  the  beating  of  her  heart. 
Her  cries  of  wonder  and  admiration  warmed  him  still 
further.  His  voice  dropped  to  a  lower  note.  It  was 
awfully  nice  of  Lissy  to  care.  It  was  ripping  to  have 
some  one  to  talk  to;  he  was  awfully  lonely  sometimes! 
Bobby !  Bobby !  with  three  sisters,  all  a-quiver  to  share 
the  treasure  of  your  heart — never  mind !  These  things 
must  be. 

"I've  been  awfully  unhappy,  too,  lately!"  said 
Bobby.  "Nobody  knows,  but 

Out  it  all  came!  His  love,  his  hopes,  "seeing  Tom 
was  out  of  the  running,  or  so  everybody  said,"  his 
bitter  disappointment.  Out  it  all  poured  in  a  flood; 

224 


Psycho-Cardiac  Processes 


and  little  Lissy  heard  it  all  with  tear-brimmed  eyes, 
with  clasped  hands,  and  soft  ejaculations  of  pity,  of 
sympathy,  of  wonder  that  was  almost  anger.  How 
could  Kitty?  How  could  she? 

"But  it  is  all  over  now !"  Bobby  rose  and  straight- 
ened his  shoulders  manfully.  "Of  course  there  will 
never  be  any  one  like  her  in  the  world,  but  I  prom- 
ised I  would  never  say  anything  more,  and  I  never 
will.  As  she  says,  there's  lots  to  life  even  if  one  isn't 
happy ;  and  she  thinks  we  ought  not  to  stand  for  kick- 
ing because  things  are  the  way  they  are :  not  that  she 
put  it  just  that  way.  And  I  shall  be  real  glad  to  have 
you  for  a  sister,  Lissy,  and  I'll  tell  you  everything. 
You  must  tell  me  things,  too!"  Mr.  Chanter  added 
as  an  afterthought,  reaching  for  his  hat.  "I'm  sure 
you  must  have  lots  of  things;  good-night,  Lissy!" 

He  took  her  hand;  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then 
took  the  other. 

"Good-night,  Sister  Lissy !  What  soft  little  hands 
you  have!  What  makes  them  shake  so?  I  mustn't 
keep  you  standing  here  in  the  cold!" 

Still  he  hesitated,  holding  the  little  hands  in  his. 
How  they  trembled!  How  they  seemed  to  nestle  in 
his !  Kitty  shook  hands  like  another  chap :  her  wrists 
were  like  steel.  Well,  of  course,  driving  that  way, 
she  had  to  be  strong.  It  was  very  pleasant  to  hold 
the  little  trembling  hands;  if  they  were  to  be  brother 
and  sister — perhaps?  The  girls  were  always  bother- 
ing him  to  kiss  them — Bobby  decided  it  would  be  "too 
cheeky  for  the  first  time,"  and  finally  departed, 

225 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


warmer  about  the  heart  than  he  had  felt  since  Madam 
Flynt's  party. 

And  Melissa?  I  believe  her  little  cold  attic  glowed 
that  night  with  all  the  warmth  and  light  of  paradise, 
and  that  she  went  to  sleep  lulled  by  the  sound  of  sil- 
ver bells. 

Kitty  turned  away  happily  from  her  window,  and 
crossed  the  hall  to  the  sitting-room,  humming  under 
her  breath. 

"What  is  that  tune  you  are  forever  humming, 
child?"  Miss  Johanna  looked  up  from  her  knitting. 

"  The  Duke  of  Lee?'  Oh,  it's  an  old,  old  English 
song  and  dance.  Mother  used  to  sing  it,  don't  you  re- 
member? And  Tommy  and  I  used  to  dance  it:  he  was 
the  Duke  of  Lee,  and  I  was  the  gentlewoman  of  high 
qualitee.  Surely  you  remember !  How  handsome  you 
look,  Aunt  Johanna!" 

"Fiddlededee !"  said  Aunt  Johanna ;  she  got  up  and 
poked  the  fire.  It  was  true  none  the  less.  The  lady 
was  slightly  flushed;  her  dark  eyes  were  very  bright; 
the  purple  broadcloth,  with  touches  of  gold  about 
the  bodice,  was  extremely  becoming;  certainly  she 
was  a  handsome  woman. 

"It's  true !"  said  Kitty.  "Just  look  in  the  glass  and 
see  if  it  isn't!  I  wonder  the  dear  Judge  managed  to 
go  at  all,  with  you  looking  so,  and  the  violets  smell- 
ing so,  and  the  fire  crackling  so,  and — he  might  have 
waited  to  see  me !"  Kitty  was  hovering  over  the  bowl 
of  violets,  drawing  deep  breaths  of  fragrance.  "Busi- 
ness, Sarepta  said.  Nothing  wrong,  I  hope,  Auntie?" 

"N-no!"  said  Miss  Johanna,  slowly  and  medita- 
226 


Psycho-Cardiac  Processes 


tively.  "Nothing  precisely  wrong  that  I  know  of. 
Nothing  half  as  wrong  as  this  knitting!"  she  added 
briskly.  "Come  here,  child!  You  and  Sarepta  Dar- 
win together  having  accomplished  this  atrocity  of 
teaching  me  to  knit,  are  bound  to  see  me  through.  I 
seem  to  have  done  something  queer  here!" 

Kitty  sat  down  beside  her  on  the  leather  sofa,  and 
for  some  minutes  both  were  absorbed  in  the  mysteries 
of  purling,  compared  with  which,  Miss  Johanna  de- 
clared, those  of  Eleusis  were  kindergarten  play. 

"That's  a  ridiculous  tune !"  she  remarked  presently. 
"It  keeps  jigging  through  my  head  so,  I  can't  keep 
my  feet  still.  So  you  used  to  dance  it  with  Tommy 
Lee.  Tommy  was  a  nice  boy ;  I  always  liked  him.  Do 
you  ever  hear  from  him,  Kitty?" 

"No,"  said  Kitty  quietly.  "I  believe  he  is  doing 
very  well — Mr.  Chanter  heard  of  him  last  winter  from 
a  friend  who  had  met  him  in  the  West — but  I  don't 
know  that  any  one  has  heard  directly." 

She  did  not  add  that,  according  to  Cissy  Sharpe, 
"they  claimed"  that  Tom  Lee  had  married  the  widow 
of  a  cattle  king,  and  was  spending  millions  on  a  marble 
palace  overlooking  the  Golden  Gate;  she  did  not  be- 
lieve this,  but  it  hurt,  somehow.  If  he  would  only 
write  a  line ;  a  postal  card  even !  Cissy  had  heard  it  in 
Tinkham ;  she  fixed  greedy  eyes  on  Kitty  as  she  spoke. 
Millions  of  money,  they  claimed!  A  handsome 
woman,  ten  years  older  than  what  he  was.  She  pre- 
sumed Kitty  knew  more  about  it  than  what  she  did; 
ha!  ha! 

"There !"  Kitty  handed  Miss  Johanna  her  knitting 
227 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


and  took  up  her  own.  "That's  all  clear,  dear.  Now 
knit  straight  on,  ten  rows,  and  then  I'll  show  you 
about  the  neck." 

A  long  silence  followed,  broken  only  by  clicking 
needles  and  purring  fire.  Presently  Miss  Johanna 
spoke,  abruptly: 

"Elderly  marriages  are  ridiculous!  Grandpa  West- 
cott  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding.  Ridiculous!" 

Kitty  started,  then  looked  up  wondering.  "Are 
they?"  she  said  vaguely.  "And  what  about  Grandpa 
Westcott,  Aunt  Johanna?" 

Miss  Johanna  looked  a  little  confused.  "My  dear," 
she  said,  "I  was  just  thinking  aloud.  I  was  in  a  ref- 
eree, as  old  Mr.  Weller  says.  Nothing  of  importance; 
and  then  I  thought  of  Grandpa  Westcott;  that's  all!" 

"Did  he  elderly  marry?"  Kitty  roused  herself  with 
a  little  effort.  //  it  were  true,  wtiat  did  anything  else 
matter?  But  that  was  no  reason  why  she  should  be 
an  unsociable  curmudgeon. 

"Tell  me  about  him,  Aunt  Jo!  dear  Father  never 
had  time  to  tell  me  family  stories,  and  blessed  Mother 
didn't  know  them,  I  suppose.  Let's  have  a  good  tell 
now!" 

She  looked  up  brightly.  Miss  Johanna  returned  the 
smile,  not  quite  with  her  usual  crisp  composure.  Her 
fine  eyebrows  lifted  and  knitted  in  a  curious  little  way 
they  had  when  she  was  disturbed ;  her  laugh  rang  not 
wholly  clear. 

"I  certainly  cannot  leave  you  in  ignorance  about 
Grandpa  Westcott's  third  marriage!"  she  said.  "I 
wonder  at  John;  but  he  never  cared  about  Family. 

228 


Psycho-Cardiac  Processes 


Little  White  Lily  didn't  know,  of  course.  Her  grand- 
father was  an  archangel  and  her  grandmother  a 
seraph;  good  gracious!  Suppose  Egeria  should  hear 
me !  Well,  my  dear,  you  shall  have  your  'tell' ;  I  have 
brought  it  upon  myself." 

Miss  Johanna  paused  to  pick  up  a  brand  with  the 
tongs  and  lay  it  carefully  on  top  of  the  back-log. 
Kitty,  turning  the  heel  of  her  stocking,  prepared  for 
a  pleasant  season.  She  loved  "tells,"  and  Aunt  Jo- 
hanna was  the  ideal  story-teller. 

"Grandpa  Westcott,"  the  lady  began,  "my  great, 
your  great-great,  was  one  of  the  best  men  that  ever 
lived.  I  remember  him  well;  tall,  dignified,  handsome: 
the  only  person  I  ever  saw  in  a  queue.  He  had  had 
two  wives,  both  patterns  in  every  way.  The  first — 
she  was  a  Siddall  of  Trimount,  and  a  Beauty — the 
Stuart  portrait — had  no  children  and  died  young. 
The  second  was  my  grandmother,  Katharine  Turner; 
you  are  named  for  her,  of  course,  and  you  look  like 
her.  She  was  not  altogether  plain,  either,"  said  Miss 
Johanna  dryly,  with  a  glance  at  the  lovely  face  that 
smiled  down  from  the  wall  in  an  exquisite  pastel. 
"She  had  four  children  and  lived  to  see  them  all  grown 
up  and  settled  in  life,  and  to  be  the  delight  of  her 
grandchildren's  hearts.  Then,  when  she  was  sixty 
and  Grandpa  seventy,  she  died  quite  suddenly, 
and  Grandpa  went  all  to  pieces.  Naturally!  he  was 
a  very  affectionate  man,  and  for  fifty  years  he  had 
been  told  every  day  what  to  eat,  drink  and  avoid,  what 
shirt  to  put  on,  and  where  his  socks  were.  More  than 
that,  he  had  been  listened  to,  which  is  the  most  neces- 

229 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


sary  thing  for  a  man.  He  mourned  and  he  moaned, 
he  moaned  and  he  mourned,  till  at  last  old  Delia,  who 
had  been  with  him  thirty  of  the  fifty  years,  sent  to 
the  City  for  Uncle  Doctor.  I  can  just  remember  old 
Delia.  She  had  large  white  teeth,  and  used  to  let  me 
scribble  on  them  with  a  pencil:  horrid  child!  She 
sang  old  Irish  songs  as  no  one  else  ever  did :  I  wish 
you  could  have  heard  her  sing,  'Irish  Molly  O !' ' 

Miss  Johanna  broke  off  to  sing,  in  a  high,  clear  lit- 
tle voice: 

"  'She's  galliant,  she's  beautiful, 

She's  the  fairest  one  I  know ; 
She's  the  primrose  of  Ireland, 

All  for  my  guinea,  oh ! 
And  the  only  one  entices  me 
Is  Irish  Molly  O, 
Molly  O!' 

"Well!  So  Delia  sent  for  Uncle  Doctor,  and  he 
came.  'Mr.  Doctor,'  she  said,  'your  Da  is  looking  for 
his  dead  clo'es.  If  you  don't  find  a  woman  for  him 
to  marry,  I'll  have  to  marry  him  myself,  and  fine  I'd 
look  cocking  in  the  parlor,  d'ye  see^ 

"  'Bless  my  soul !'  says  Uncle  Doctor,  'I  see.  I'll 
attend  to  it,  Delia.' 

"So  Delia  went  back  to  her  pots  and  pans,  and  Uncle 
Doctor,  after  thinking  a  little,  went  down  the  street 
and  called  on  Aunt  Elizabeth.  Aunt  Elizabeth  was 
Grandma's  sister ;  they  were  like  a  pair  of  gloves,  only 
she  was  a  single  woman. 

"  'Auntie,'  "  says  Uncle  Doctor,  'would  you  mind 
marrying  Father?' 

230 


Psycho-Cardiac  Processes 


"  'Bless  my  soul,  Nathaniel !'  says  Aunt  Elizabeth. 
So  he  told  her  what  Delia  said,  and  they  talked  it  over. 
She  was  a  sensible  woman  and  fond  of  Grandpa.  By 
and  by,  back  he  goes  to  Grandpa.  'Father,'  he  says, 
'I  want  you  to  put  on  your  hat  and  go  down  street  and 
ask  Aunt  Elizabeth  to  marry  you.' 

"  'Bless  my  soul!'  says  Grandpa.  'She  wouldn't 
have  me,  Nathaniel !' 

"  'I  think  she  would,'  says  Uncle  Doctor. 

"  'And  what  would  Katharine  say  ?'  says  Grandpa. 

"  'She  would  say,  "Put  on  your  hat,  and  don't  forget 
your  muffler." 

"So  Uncle  Doctor  put  on  the  hat  and  muffler  for  him 
and  saw  him  out  of  the  door,  headed  down  street ;  and 
he  and  Aunt  Elizabeth  were  married  next  day,  and 
had  ten  happy  years  together.  So  there  is  that." 

Miss  Johanna  rolled  up  her  knitting  briskly,  and 
rose  from  her  seat.  "But  one  swallow  doesn't  make 
a  summer,  Kitty,  and  one  pair  of  old  f —  of  dear  old 
things  doesn't  make  folly  the  less  foolish.  I  am  going 
upstairs,  my  dear.  If  you  are  watering  the  plants, 
you  might  just  change  the  water  for  those  violets: 
they  are  drooping  a  little." 

"Dear  things!  so  they  are!"  Kitty  rose,  too,  and 
bent  lovingly  over  the  bowl.  "The  new  ones  are  due 
to-morrow,  aren't  they,  Auntie?" 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  the  new  ones!" 

Miss  Johanna  spoke  rather  snappishly  from  the 
door. 

"We  may  all  be  dead  to-morrow,  and  very  likely 
the  best  thing  for  us.  They  would  be  nice  for  our 

231 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


funerals!"  she  added  rather  enigmatically  from  the 
stairs:  and  the  door  of  the  Red  Indian  Room  closed 
shortly  behind  her. 

Judge  Peters  seemed  to  have  a  good  deal  of  busi- 
ness to  transact  with  Miss  Johanna.  He  came  regu- 
larly once  a  week,  almost  always  during  the  hour  of 
Madam  Flynt's  drive.  This  puzzled  Kitty,  used  all 
her  life  to  being  the  Judge's  pet  and  playmate.  He 
could  not  be  vexed  with  her,  for  his  smile  and  greeting 
when  they  met  was  as  affectionate  as  ever,  even  more 
so  perhaps.  He  pressed  her  hand  very  tenderly  on 
the  steps  one  day,  and  said,  "God  bless  you,  my  dear 
child !"  in  a  way  that  brought  the  tears  to  Kitty's  eyes. 
Yet  he  never  came  to  see  her  nowadays ! 

"I  do  hope  Aunt  Johanna's  business  is  all  right!" 
she  said  to  Madam  Flynt  one  day,  when  that  lady  had 
brought  her  in  after  the  drive  for  a  little  visit. 

"I  hope  so!"  said  Madam  Flynt.  ''Why  shouldn't 
it  be  ?  Johanna  is-  an  excellent  woman  of  business,  I 
have  always  heard." 

"Oh,  it's  only — well,  Judge  Peters  comes  pretty 
often,  and — it  may  be  all  my  imagination,  but  she 
seems  rather  troubled  sometimes  after  he  is  gone.  I 
ought  not  to  speak  of  this,  perhaps,  but — Mother 
always  used  to  come  to  you,  didn't  she,  Madam 
Flynt?" 

Madam  Flyrit  took  off  her  gold  spectacles  to  wipe 
her  eyes. 

"She  did,  my  dear.  That  sweetest  flower  of  all  the 
world  used  to  bring  her  little  troubles  to  me:  she 
never  had  any  big  ones,  bless  her!  she  didn't  like  to 

232 


Psycho-Cardiac  Processes 


bother  John  about  the  price  of  butter,  she  said.  She 
called  me  her  Cousin  Confessor;  as  if  she  ever  had 
anything  to  confess !  But  about  Johanna — wait  a  mo- 
ment, my  dear!" 

The  door  opened,  and  Miss  Croly  appeared  with 
the  inevitable  milk  posset. 

"I  will  take  it  in  ten  minutes,  Cornelia.  I  am  busy 
now." 

"It  is  the  regular  hour "  Miss  Croly  began  mild- 
ly; but  she  was  cut  short. 

"I  will  take  it  in  ten  minutes!"  Madam  Flynt  raised 
her  voice,  a  rare  thing  with  her.  "There  is  a  gazelle 
in  the  garden,  Cornelia!" 

Miss  Croly  vanished  without  a  word.  Kitty  opened 
wondering  eyes;  Madam  Flynt  waved  her  hand. 

"She  understands.  We  have  our  private  code,  my 
dear.  Though  exasperating  at  times,  Cornelia  Croly 
is  no  fool.  She  will  be  back  in  ten  minutes.  Kitty, 
my  child—  '  Madam  Flynt  spoke  with  kindly  em- 
phasis— "don't  be  disturbed  about  your  Aunt  Johanna 
and  the  Judge.  They  know  each  other  like  two  old 
shoes." 

"Of  course!    I  was  only  afraid " 

"You  needn't  be  afraid.  You  would  be  glad,  I 
should  think,  wouldn't  you?  Edward  Peters  is  the 
very  salt  of  the  earth,  and  he  has  been  in  love  with 
her  all  his  life.  It's  the  Cyrus  way!"  Madam  Flynt 
added  rather  pettishly.  "One-idea'd  people:  that's 
why  they  are  mostly  spinsters  and  bachelors.  Well, 
Kitty!  What  is  it?" 

233 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


Kitty  had  risen  from  her  low  stool,  pale  and  wide- 
eyed. 

"You  don't  mean,"  she  faltered;  "Madam  Flynt, 
you  cannot  mean  that  they " 

Madam  Flynt  nodded  her  cap-ribbons,  into  a  per- 
fect dance  of  triumph.  "I  mean  that  they  are  prob- 
ably going  to  marry  each  other,"  she  announced.  "I 
certainly  hope  they  are!  Why  upon  earth  shouldn't 
they?  Kitty,  do  you  suppose  the  affections  run  down 
like  a  clock  if  they  are  not  wound  up  in  the  early 
twenties?  Nothing  of  the  sort!  A  man  of  sixty 
needs  a  wife  as  much  as  a  boy  of  twenty;  more,  in 
many  cases!  And  if  ever,"  she  added  emphatically, 
"a  woman  needed  a  sensible  man  to  take  care  of  her, 
and  keep  the  bees  out  of  her  bonnet,  that  woman  is 
Johanna  Ross!  There!  Give  me  a  kiss,  my  dear, 
and  then  run  along,  and  tell  Cornelia  Croly,  as  you 
go,  that  she  may  bring  in  her  noxious  draught.  She 
doesn't  sleep  at  night  if  I  don't  take  it  regularly.  Most 
exasperating  woman — and,  Kitty!"  she  called  the  girl 
back  to  add  impressively;  "if  you  meet  your  Uncle 
Edward  on  the  steps  to-day  give  him  a  kiss,  and  tell 
him  you  are  thankful  for  your  mercies!" 

Was  Madam  Flynt  in  league  with  Occult  Powers? 
An  already  sufficiently  bewildered  Kitty  did  meet 
Judge  Peters  on  the  steps,  just  coming  out  of  Ross 
House.  Some  strong  emotion  had  broken  up  his  usual 
courtly  calm;  his  face  was  suffused,  his  eyes  shone. 

"Kitty!"  he  cried.     "Kitty,  I "     He  bent  and  ' 

kissed  her  forehead.     "She  will  tell  you!"  he  mur- 
mured, with  a  gesture  toward  the  house.    "Blessed, — 

234 


Psycho-Cardiac  Processes 


blessed "  He  waved  his  hand,  almost  (poor  Kitty 

thought)  like  Mr.  Jordano,  and  departed  with  long, 
hasty  strides. 

Kitty  hesitated  a  moment  at  the  sitting-room  door, 
dreading  she  hardly  knew  what.  Strong  emotions 
shook  her  like  a  leaf  in  these  days,  she  did  not  ask 
herself  why. 

"Foolish  creature!"  she  murmured. 

She  need  have  had  no  fear ;  Miss  Johanna  was  pale, 
and  her  eyes  showed  traces  of  tears,  but  she  was  en- 
tirely calm. 

"Sit  down,  Kitty,  my  dear!"  she  said.  "Here,  by 
me,  on  the  sofa.  I  have  something  to  tell  you.  Do 
you  remember  my  quoting  Peggotty  the  other  day? 
Barkis  was  willin',  you  know,  and  David  didn't  un- 
derstand the  message;  'Drat  the  man!  he  wants  to 
marry  me/  said  Peggotty.  Well,  my  child,  drat  the 
Judge,  he  wants  to  marry  me !  I  haven't  spoken  of  it 
before,  because  if  I  had  decided  to  say  no,  there  would 
have  been  no  occasion;  but  he  is  the  most  obstinate 
man  I  ever  saw,  in  his  quiet  way ;  so — I  have  said  yes, 
Kitty.  I  told  you,  didn't  I,  it  is  he  who  has  sent  the 
violets  all  these  years?  You  needn't  smother  me,  my 
dear!" 

Kitty  had  her  in  her  arms,  exclaiming,  caressing, 
laughing  and  crying,  all  at  once. 

"Auntie!  Darling,  wicked,  deceitful  Auntie!  What 
a  blind  bat  I  have  been!  I  was  afraid — oh!  I  am  so 
glad,  so  glad !  But  you  always  said  you  didn't  know 
who  sent  them." 

"I  didn't — exactly — know!  I  only  felt  at  the  back 
235 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


of  my  head  that  it  was  probably  Edward;  he  is  that 
kind  of  faithful,  doggy  person.  It's  perfectly  ridic- 
ulous, as  I  said.  And — my  stars!"  Miss  Johanna 
was  all  in  a  moment  her  crispest,  most  incisive  self. 
"There  is  no  possible  thing  that  a  woman  of  fifty  can 
be  married  in  except  gray  or  lavender,  and  I  look  like 
a  blown-out  tallow  dip  in  either  of  'em.  Run  after 
him,  Kitty,  and  tell  him  I've  changed  my  mind !" 


CHAPTER  XVII 

KITTY  SINGS 

MISS   JOHANNA   decided   finally   on   moss- 
green. 

"It's  emblematic,  you  see!"  she  explained 
to  the  Misses  Bygood,  who  had  come  in  state  and  their 
best  summer  silks  ("a  little  early  for  them,"  Miss  Al- 
meria  admitted,  "but  something  festal — Johanna  will 
appreciate  our  motive!")  to  offer  their  best  wishes. 

"Our  congratulations,"  Miss  Almeria  said  impres- 
sively, "are  for  Edward." 

Miss  Johanna  raised  her  eyebrows.  "Poor  Ed- 
ward!" she  said.  "Do  you  remember  John's  remark  to 
Mrs.  Pringle  when  Emmy  was  engaged  ?  'I  congratu- 
late you,  ma'am,  on  this  auspicious  and  desolating 
event!'  As  I  was  saying,  girls,  moss-green  is  not  only 
becoming  to  me,  it  is  also  emblematic.  Green  is  for 
hope,  which  springs  eternal,  you  know;  moss  is  ap- 
propriate for  age.  Velvet,  because  Edward  swears 
he  won't  marry  me  in  anything  else — no,  Gerie ;  don't 
look  like  that!  because  he  likes  it,  and  I  may  as  well 
do  something  to  please  him  while  I  can.  I  am  sorry 
for  Edward,  but  he  has  brought  it  upon  himself." 

"Johanna  is  jesting,  sister!"  Miss  Almeria  explained 
237 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


kindly.  "We  consider  Edward  an  exceptionally  for- 
tunate man,  Johanna!" 

"You  are  dears,  both  of  you !"  Miss  Johanna's  eyes 
softened,  and  she  spoke  in  a  different  tone  from  her 
usual  half-gibing  utterance.  "I  am  very  happy,  girls, 
and  very  thankful,  as  I  ought  to  be.  And — don't  tell, 
but,  when  we  come  back,  I  am  going  to  try  not  to  be 
peculiar  any  more.  Only  everybody  will  say  I  was 
changed  at  marriage!"  she  added  ruefully.  "Do  you 
suppose  Cyrus  will  think  me  all  the  more  peculiar  for 
trying  not  to  be?"  (As  a  matter  of  fact,  this  is  pre- 
cisely what  Cyrus  did  think;  but  this  is  to  anticipate.) 

It  was  a  very  quiet  wedding,  only  the  few  old 
friends  who  had  stood  by  Johanna  Ross  through  all 
her  wayward  years,  and  one  new  one.  Mr.  Jordano, 
the  bride  insisted,  must  be  present.  She  felt  like  a 
criminal  in  not  having  a  Real  Wedding  for  Cyrus,  but 
Edward  could  not  abide  weddings;  you  would  think 
he  had  had  a  dozen  already.  The  least  they  could  do 
was  to  have  it  written  up  in  style,  and  that  this  De- 
licious Creature  was  sure  to  do.  Mr.  Jordano  did  not 
know  that  he  was  a  Delicious  Creature,  but  he  did 
know  that  Opportunity  beckoned,  and  he  rose  to  it. 
Fortunately  the  wedding  took  place  the  day  before  the 
weekly  appearance  of  the  Centinel,  and  Cyrus  read 
over  its  breakfast  with  mingled  feelings,  of  the  Event 
which  only  a  "select  party  of  choice  spirits,"  as  Mr. 
Jordano  put  it,  had  the  privilege  of  attending.  (Not 
that  Mrs.  Sharpe  wondered ;  far  from  it.  Marrying  at 
that  age,  Johanna  Ross  naturally  would  not  wish  to 
have  any  more  witnesses  than  were  absolutely  neces- 

238 


Kitty  Sings 

sary:  Mrs.  Sharpe  for  one  was  thankful  to  be  spared 
such  a  spectacle.)  The  Scribe  had  been  one  of  the 
fortunate  few  bidden  to  attend  the  nuptials  of  Miss 
Johanna  Ross,  a  lady  who,  though  long  absent  from 
our  midst,  was  admired  and  revered  by  all  who  had  the 
privilege  of  her  acquaintance,  and  our  highly-esteemed 
and  justly  celebrated  fellow  citizen  and  jurist,  the  Hon. 
Edward  Peters,  Justice  of  the  Supreme  Bench.  The 
ceremony  had  taken  place  in  the  elegant  and  commodi- 
ous mansion  of  the  late  Dr.  Ross,  now  the  abode  of  his 
charming  and  talented  daughter,  Miss  Katharine  Ross, 
whose  reputation  as  an  equestrienne  of  the  highest 
order  had  spread  far  beyond  the  limits  of  Cyrus  and 
environs.  The  spacious  parlors  of  Ross  House  were 
tastily  adorned  with  ferns,  emerald  moss  (to  which, 
it  appeared,  the  bride  was  specially  addicted)  and  vio- 
lets, the  latter  in  such  profusion  as  to  lade  the  ambient 
air  with  perfumes  of  Araby  the  blest.  The  bride,  a 
superb  brunette,  wore  a  confection  of  moss-green  vel- 
vet with  gold  garniture,  and  resembled,  if  Italio  might 
take  the  liberty,  a  rare  jewel  in  an  emerald  chalice. 
(Mr.  Jordano  had  written  "cup"  at  first;  but  he  liked 
to  murmur  his  copy  aloud  as  he  wrote ;  and  "cup-pup- 
pup"  struck  harshly  on  his  ear.  He  was  in  sensitive 
mood;  a  tail  seemed  to  wag  in  the  corner  of  his  eye. 
"Chalice"  came  as  a  happy  and  satisfying  inspira- 
tion.) 

"The  bride  (we  read  over  the  shoulder  of  Cyrus, 
which  is  letting  its  coffee  grow  cold!)  "was  attended 
only  by  her  niece,  Miss  Katharine  Ross,  who  was  in- 
deed a  vision  for  the  Poet's  eye.  Simply  gowned  in 

239 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


filmy  white,  and  which  enclosed  as  fair  a  form  as  ever 
endowed  nymph  or  grace,  the  effect  was  distingue 
beyond  the  simple  pen  of  the  Scribe  to  relate.  The 
ceremony  (with  ring)  was  performed  by  the  Reverend 
Timothy  Chanter,  who  appeared  in  full  regalia  of 
black  silk,  and  was  accompanied  by  Mrs.  Chanter  in 
brown  poplin  with  self  trimmings  of  velvet.  The 
Misses  Bygood  wore  flowered  silk,  with  a  profusion 
of  priceless  lace,  and  were  as  ever  the  peers  of  grace 
and  beauty;  no  eye  could  gaze  on  them  unmoved." 
(Mr.  Jordano  sighed  heavily  after  writing  this,  and 
murmured,  "Almeria,  to  thee !"  in  unconscious  imita- 
tion of  Sir  Edward  Bulwer  Lytton.)  "Madam  Flynt 
was  sumptuously  attired  in  lilac  brocade  and  dia- 
monds, Miss  Croly  in  purple  silk.  Mr.  Marshall  Mal- 
low, the  genial  Mine  Host  of  the  Mallow  House,  and 
the  humble  Scribe  who  pens  this  tribute  from  a  feel- 
ing heart,  made  up  a  party  which  must  ever  esteem  it- 
self fortunate  in  having  been  chosen  to  participate  in 
an  Event  which,  though  characterized  by  chaste  se- 
venty and  exclusiveness,  will  ever  dwell  in  the  mind 
as  an  Acme  of  elegance.  At  the  conclusion  of  the 
ceremony,  exquisite  refreshments  were  served  in  re- 
ceptacles of  priceless  porcelain  and  cut  glass.  It  was 
whispered  in  the  ear  of  the  Scribe  that  everything  was 
made  in  the  house.  Cyrus  is,  indeed,  fortunate  in 
possessing  a  culinary  artist  of  such  dimensions  as  Miss 
Sarepta  Darwin,  to  whom,  if  Italio  were  rightly  in- 
formed, is  due  the  credit  of  the  truly  superlative  re- 
past enjoyed  by  the  guests." 

Sarepta  read  this  next  morning,  and  sniffed. 
240 


Kitty  Sings 

"What  did  the  man  expect?"  she  asked  of  Kitty, 
who  had  brought  the  paper  out  to  her.  "What  d'he 
think  I'd  been  doin'  for  forty  years?  The  idea!"  but 
she  cut  the  item  out  none  the  less,  and  pasted  it  in  her 
scrapbook. 

So  Judge  Peters  won  the  lady  of  his  faithful  heart, 
and  carried  her  off  for  a  summer  in  Europe:  (there 
was  a  Europe  in  those  days,  not  yet  become  a  place 
of  blood  and  tears!)  "And  now,"  said  Cyrus  hope- 
fully, "perhaps  Kitty  will  come  and  live  with  us!" 

To  be  exact,  it  was  only  the  Chanter  girls  and  Mr. 
Mallow  who  said  this.  Madam  Flynt  and  the  Misses 
Bygood  knew  better;  so  did  the  bride,  who  checked 
her  Edward's  affectionate  hope,  expressed  to  Kitty  at 
parting,  with  "Nonsense,  Ned !  Kitty  will  stay  in  her 
own  house.  She  would  be  a  great  fool  if  she  didn't." 

Kitty  cried  a  good  deal  after  her  aunt  left.  She 
missed  the  brusque,  incisive  speech,  the  odd,  kindly 
ways.  The  house  seemed  very  lonely,  very  silent; 
though  of  course  it  was  just  as  dear.  She  was  so  glad 
they  were  going  to  be  happy  together,  those  two  dear 
people!  There  would  be  no  more  violets  now,  she 
supposed.  Ridiculous  that  here  an  absurd  crystal  tear 
dropped  on  the  shining  leaf  of  the  orange-tree  Kitty 
was  watering:  tears  came  so  easily  nowadays,  when 
she  was  not  really  sad  at  all,  only — only 

//  Tom  were  really  married,  what  did  anything  else 
matter?  If  he  were!  Kitty  did  not  actually  believe  it. 
There  were  many  people  who  did  not  write  letters; 
but  to  marry,  without  a  word  or  a  line,  after — she 

241 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


caught  her  breath,  seeing  his  face  as  he  took  leave  of 
her  that  day,  so  long — oh,  so  long  ago ! 

"I  shall  find  you  here  when  I  come  back,  Kitty? 
You — you'll  wait " 

Some  one  came  in :  next  moment  he  was  gone.  That 
was  all.  //  he  were  really  married — 

The  curious  thing  was,  songs  came  as  easily  as 
tears.  She  had  not  sung  since  her  mother's  death, 
till  just  lately;  but  now,  for  all  her  sadness,  which  of 
course  was  not  really  sadness,  song  bubbled  within 
her  like  a  fountain.  "The  Duke  of  Lee"  was  on  her 
lips  all  day  long:  it  possessed  her;  she  could  not  drive 
it  away.  She  tried  to  do  so  by  a  severe  course  of 
scales,  singing  her  solfeggi  twice  a  day  religiously; 
taking  up,  too,  the  Italian  arias  and  canzonetti  that 
her  mother  had  loved  to  hear  her  sing,  and  the  Scotch 
ballads  she  used  to  croon  to  her  father  when  he  came 
in  from  a  long  drive  and  sat  on  the  leather  sofa  be- 
fore the  sitting-room  fire.  There  was  nothing  won- 
derful about  Kitty's  voice,  but  it  was  very  sweet,  and 
had  a  harp-like  quality  that  thrilled  one  strangely 
somehow. 

She  set  herself  a  stiff  little  course  of  reading  for 
the  evening,  when  of  course  she  would  miss  Aunt  Jo- 
hanna most.  Plato  to  begin  with;  she  had  always 
meant  to  read  Plato;  then  she  would  take  Herodotus, 
and  Josephus,  and  all  the  things  she  had  never  "got 
round  to."  It  would  be  wonderful!  she  thought.  If 
she  kept  at  it  steadily,  by  the  time  she  was  fifty,  she 
might  really  begin  to  know  just  a  scrap,  "instead  of 

242 


Kitty  Sings 

being  a  Pit  of   Ignorance,   Pilot,  as  I  always  have 
been ;  just  like  you,  my  lamb ;  heigh  ho ! 

"  'And  she  shall  have  silks  and  satins  for  to  wear, 
And  a  coach  and  six  for  to  take  the  air ' 

"/  ^vill  not  sing  that  again  to-day !" 

You  see,  Kitty  did  not  know,  could  not  possibly 
know,  psychical  processes  being  in  their  present  veiled 
condition,  that  currents  were  flowing,  wireless  mes- 
sages flashing,  between  her  subliminal  self  and  an- 
other; that  Tom  Lee,  striding  up  and  down  the  deck 
of  his  steamer,  was  crying  all  day  long  in  his  heart, 
"Kitty!  Kitty!  Kitty!  I  am  coming!  Wait  for  me!" 
Had  "Psychic  Wireless,  Unlimited,"  informed  Tom 
that  there  were  other  aspirants  for  the  hand  he  had  so 
confidently  thought  his?  Who  can  tell?  Certainly, 
he  told  Kitty  afterward,  the  voyage  was  "H.  E. 
Double,"  and  ten  times  a  day  he  thought  of  jumping 
overboard  and  swimming  the  Pacific  Ocean,  as  likely 
to  make  better  time. 

John  Tucker  emerged  from  the  harness-room,  in 
leather  apron  and  gloves. 

"It's  good  to  hear  you  singin'  round  the  place,  Miss 
Kitty,"  he  said :  "it  is  so !  I  enjoy  it,  and  I  expect  they 
do  as  well,  if  they  could  speak." 

He  nodded  toward  Dan  and  Pilot,  who  were  cer- 
tainly pictures  of  attention,  as  they  stood  with  shining 
eyes,  ears  pricked  forward,  and  delicate  nostrils  di- 
lated. 

"Bless  them!"  said  Kitty.  "It's  sugar  they  want, 
the  darlings,  not  singing.  Pilot,  stop!  You  cannot 

243 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


get  your  head  into  my  pocket,  you  greedy  cherub,  and 
it  is  Dan's  turn,  anyhow.  Here,  Dan !  Don't  slobber, 
darling !  Eat  like  a  gentleman,  because  you  know  you 
are  one,  a  Perfect  Pattern,  except  for  just  a  shade  of 
gluttony.  Now,  Pilot!" 

John  Tucker  stood  in  the  doorway,  gazing  at  her 
with  delight.  She  was  the  "very  moral"  of  a  picture 
that  hung  in  his  own  sitting-room;  a  steel  engraving, 
neatly  framed.  It  was  labeled  "Thoroughbred,"  and 
showed  a  fair  girl  patting  a  noble  horse.  John  Tucker 
had  seen  it  in  the  window  of  a  print  shop  in  the  city 
and  had  bought  it,  refusing  steadfastly  to  tell  his  Mary 
\vhat  it  cost.  Miss  Kitty  and  Pilot  might  have  sat  for 
the  two  portraits,  he  maintained,  except  for  Pilot's 
being  black,  which  was  all  a  Pilot  colt  could  be. 

The  horses  fed  and  petted — not  to  their  hearts'  con- 
tent, but  as  near  it  as  the  passing  nature  of  time  would 
allow — John  Tucker  turned  back  into  the  harness- 
room  with  a  backward  jerk  of  his  head  which  said  as 
plainly  as  one  of  Pilot's  gestures,  "Aren't  you  coming 
to  see  me  now  ?" 

Kitty  followed  him  into  the  pleasant  little  leather- 
scented  room  and  perched  on  the  arm  of  a  chair  as  was 
her  wont. 

"What  was  that  tune  you  was  singin'  just  now,  Miss 
Kitty?"  asked  John. 

"It  is  called  the  'Duke  of  Lee,'  "  said  Kitty.  "It's 
an  old  English  song,  John,  and  there's  a  dance  that 
goes  with  it." 

"Didn't  your  Ma  used  to  sing  it  now  and  then? 
'Pears  to  me  I  remember  of  her  singin'  it." 

244 


Kitty  Sings 

"Of  course  she  did !  You  clever  John  Tucker  to  re- 
member! She  used  to  sing  it  when  I  was  a  tiny  tot, 
and  I  used  to  dance.  Tommy  and  I,"  she  added 
bravely. 

John  Tucker  nodded  a  slow  confirmation.  "I  re- 
member !"  he  said.  "I  ricollect  one  day — summer  day 
it  was,  later  in  the  season  than  this,  and  warm — I 
ricollect  your  Ma  settin'  on  the  kitchen  steps,  an'  Mis' 
Lee  settin'  beside  her.  I  couldn't  but  notice  what  a 
pictur'  they  made,  kind  of  showin'  of  each  other  off, 
as  you  might  say.  What  I  mean,  your  Ma  was  dark, 
you  understand,  leastways  her  hair  and  eyes,  though 
she  had  that  kind  of  soft  whiteness  that  you'd  thought 
there  was  a  light  inside,  if  you  see  what  I  mean,  Miss 
Kitty " 

Kitty  nodded  silently. 

"An*  Mis'  Lee,"  John  Tucker  went  on,  "was  more 
like  a  red  and  white  setter  pup.  No  offense  to  her 
mem'ry  in  sayin'  so,  for  she  sure  was  a  handsome 
lady,  and  I  thought  the  world  of  her — and  Tommy, 
too!" 

John  Tucker's  eyes  were  bent  studiously  on  the 
buckle  he  was  polishing. 

"But  what  I  mean,  there  they  sot,  and  honest,  Miss 
Kitty,  I  never  go  by  that  kitchen  door  but  I  see  them 
two — well,  beautiful  women  is  what  I  would  say — set- 
tin'  there  side  by  each,  and  your  Ma  singin'  that  song, 
and  you  two  little  shavers  dancin'.  I — gorry!  I 
wish't  they  was  all  back,  Miss  Kitty." 

John  Tucker  dashed  the  back  of  his  hand  across  his 
eyes,  and  gave  a  single  portentous  sniff. 

245 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


"Dear  John !"  Kitty's  eyes  were  brimming,  too.  She 
stroked  John's  blue  shirt  sleeve  very  tenderly. 

"Derr  John  Tucker,  I  am  so  glad  you  remember. 
It's  a  pleasant  picture  to  remember,  isn't  it,  John?" 

"You  bet  it  is!" 

John  Tucker  very  gruff  with  himself,  and  polishing 
away  like  mad. 

"Mis'  Lee,  she's  gone,  too,  ain't  she,  Miss  Kitty? 
Too  bad!" 

"Yes,  John,  she  died  three  years  ago.  But  Tom  is 
alive,"  she  added  cheerfully,  "and  doing  finely,  I  be- 
lieve. Don't  you  want  me  to  sing  your  own  song  for 
you,  John?  The  one  you  taught  me  when  I  was  a 
tiny?  I  have  plenty  of  time  before  I  go  for  Mr. 
Chanter.  Do  you  believe  Podasokus  will  ever  get 
well,  John  Tucker,  dear?" 

"No'm,  I  do  not;  not  as  long  as  you  and  Pilot  are 
handy  by!"  John  Tucker  looked  up  with  a  twinkle. 
"What  I  mean,  'tisn't  to  be  expected,  though  I  don't 
suppose  Mr.  Chanter  senses  how  it  is.  That  hoss 
ought  to  be  put  away,  Miss  Kitty.  He  ain't  fit  to 
drive,  no  more  than  an  old  buff'ler  that  the  moths 
has  got  into  it.  Yes'm,  I'd  be  tickled  to  death  to  hear 
that  song,  if  you  feel  like  singin'  it.  It's  a  long  time 
since  I've  heard  that  song,  Miss  Kitty." 

"I  know,  John!  I  haven't  sung  it  since — I  haven't 
sung  at  all  since  Mother  went,  till  just  these  last  few 
days.  I  don't  know  why  I  sing  now,  but  somehow — 
now  listen,  John  Tucker!" 

Still  perched  on  the  arm  of  the  chair,  Kitty  lifted  up 
her  voice  and  sang  "Cockles  and  Mussels"  till  the 

246 


Kitty  Sings 

stable  rang  with  silver  sound,  and  Dan  and  Pilot 
stamped  and  whinnied  with  excitement,  while  even  Old 
Crummies,  dozing  in  the  farthest  stall,  raised  his 
sleepy  head  and  wondered  what  was  going  on.  As 
for  John  Tucker,  he  wept  with  pleasure,  openly  and 
unashamed ;  those  honest  blue  eyes  of  his  were  always 
ready  for  tears  when  he  was  moved. 

"That's  great  !"he  cried.  "That  certainly  is  great, 
Miss  Kitty.  I  thank  you  for  that!"  he  flourished  a 
clean  blue  cotton  handkerchief,  and  blew  his  nose 
sonorously.  "You  weren't  more  than  knee-high  to  a 
grasshopper  first  time  you  sang  that  to  old  John 
Tucker.  Your  Ma  sang  it,  too!"  he  added.  "I  re- 
member of  her  singin'  it  that  same  day  we  was  speakin' 
of.  Miss  Kitty " 

"Yes,  John  Tucker!"  as  he  stopped  abruptly. 

"I  was  thinkin'  I'd  take  Crummies  to  the  station 
this  afternoon.  He  ain't  been  out  to-day." 

"Yes,  John  Tucker.  What  else  were  you  going  to 
say?" 

John  gave  a  short  embarrassed  laugh.  "I  dunno  as 
I  ought  to  say  it,  Miss  Kitty.  Wai!  if  you  will  have 
it — there  was  something  Mis'  Ross  said  that  day  has 
stayed  by  me,  kind  of.  Something — what  I  mean — 
well,  'twas  this  way.  Those  two  ladies  was  talkin' 
together,  and  I  no  business  to  hear  what  they  was 
say  in',  but  yet  I  couldn't  but  hear,  bein'  as  I  was 
holdin'  the  pony.  Old  Rosy  Nanty!  he  was  gettin' 
on  in  years,  and  he  liked  to  lay  down  once  in  a  while, 
and  take  a  roll.  He  didn't  mean  no  harm,  he'd  just 
antic  a  mite.  So  they  was  talkin',  'bout  the  children : 

247 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


they  were  both  wropped  up  in  'em.  Mis'  Lee,  she  said 
something  about  young  uns  learnin'  to  know  all  sorts, 
kind  of  mix  in,  like,  with  folks  in  general:  thought 
'twas  good  for  'em  and  like  that.  And  your  Ma,  she 
bust  right  out:  'No!'  she  says:  'my  Kitty  shall  never 
know  anything  but  what  is  lovely!'  she  says:  and  she 
went  on,  quoted  the  'postle  Paul  and  like  that.  I 
never  forgot  it.  It  kind  o'  sunk  in.  You  weren't 
never  to  touch,  or  know,  or  think  of,  anything  that 
wasn't  just  so,  just — well,  lovely,  and  good  report, 
and  that.  You  understand,  Miss  Kitty  ?" 

Kitty  nodded  brightly.  "I  understand,  John  Tucker. 
Go  on!" 

"Wai!  I  dunno — I  set  here  sometimes  and  mull 
Over  that,  Miss  Kitty,  and  wonder  if  we're  doin'  just 
what's  right  by  your  Ma.  There!  I  guess  it's  got  to 
come  right  out.  I  thought  the  first  of  it,  takin'  Madam 
Flynt  for  her  ride  and  like  that,  'twould  be  all  right : 
of  course  you  wouldn't  be  let  to  go  to  no  trains  nor 
nothin'  of  that  sort.  But  come  to  see  you  kitin' 
round  with  tag  rag  and  bobtail — what  I  mean, — I 
dunno  as  your  Ma  would  like  it,  Miss  Kitty.  Of 
course  'tisn't  for  me  to  say,  but " 

Kitty's  eyes  were  dancing.  She  slipped  from  the 
arm  of  the  chair,  and  stood  before  John  Tucker,  ac- 
cusatory forefinger  leveled. 

"John  Tucker,"  she  said  slowly,  "you — are — a — 
snob!" 

"Now,  Miss  Kitty,  don't  you " 

"A  snob!"  Kitty  repeated  with  withering  empha- 
sis. "I  know  perfectly  well  what  you  mean.  You  saw 

248 


Kitty  Sings 

me  pick  up  poor  old  Mrs.  Flanagan  and  take  her 
home.  John  Tucker,  Mrs.  Flanagan  is  eighty  if  she 
is  a  day;  and  that  basket  weighed  half  a  ton,  I  am 
sure.  Would  you  have  let  her  carry  it,  if  you  had  been 
prancing  past  with  Pilot?  I  ask  you,  John  Tucker!" 

John  Tucker  looked  uncomfortable. 

"Mis'  Flanagan  has  four  children  of  her  own,"  he 
said,  "and  ten  grandchildren.  She'd  oughter  let  them 
carry  her  baskets." 

"Yes,  but  they  weren't  there,  and  I  was.  Try  to 
have  a  little  sense,  John!  as  for  the  children  on  Sat- 
urday mornings — Yes !  I  saw  you  look  at  us,  you  snob- 
bish John;  you  were  coming  out  of  Adams's:  you 
gave  us  a  Gorgon  glare,  and  I  was  ashamed  of  you! 
As  for  the  children,  they  are  my  joy  and  delight.  I 
wouldn't  miss  the  Saturday  morning  drive  for  any- 
thing, John  Tucker.  The  lambs!  didn't  you  see  how 
they  were  enjoying  it?" 

"I  saw  they  was  awful  dirty!  Took  me  'most  an 
hour  to  get  the  wagon  clean,  all  the  mud  they  tracked 
in." 

"They  had  been  playing  in  the  mud.  What  should 
they  be  doing  on  Saturday  morning?  I  don't  suppose 
you  noticed,"  she  added  demurely,  "that  one  of  the 
boys  was  named  Tucker,  did  you,  John  ?" 

"I  did,"  said  John  Tucker  grimly.  "I  told  him  I'd 
lick  him  out  of  his  boots,  if  ever  he  took  such  a  liberty 
again." 

"Are  you  sure  it  was  Jimmy  who  took  the  liberty, 
John?" 

Kitty  spoke  very  quietly,  but  there  was  a  ring  of 
249 


steel  in  her  voice.  "There!"  said  John  Tucker,  de- 
scribing the  scene  to  Sarepta  that  night.  "If  it  wasn't 
her  Pa,  lookin'  straight  at  me,  and  lettin'  me  have  it 
between  the  eyes,  call  me  a  juggins!" 

"I  will!"  said  Sarepta.  "It's  what  you  are!  The 
idea!" 

Kitty's  vexation  passed  like  summer  lightning  before 
John  Tucker's  abject  penitence. 

"I  know!"  she  said,  cheering  and  soothing  him  at 
once.  "I  know,  dear  John!  It's  all  your  goodness 
and  faithfulness,  and  I  love  you  for  it.  But  don't  you 
see,  I  cannot  'sit  on  a  cushion  and  sew  a  fine  seam,  and 
feast  upon  strawberries,  sugar  and  cream.'  That  is 
what  blessed  Mother  would  have  liked  for  me,  because 
she  could,  you  know,  and  because  I  was  her  baby, 
and — oh,  I  understand  so  well!  But  I  am  a  different 
kind,  you  see,  John.  I  am  mostly  Ross,  I  suppose,  at 
least,  so  Aunt  Johanna  says ;  and  I  don't  like  cushions, 
and  I'm  afraid  I  am  not  very  fond  of  sewing 
fine  seams.  When  one  isn't  driving  or  walking,  it 
seems  rather  terrible  not  to  be  reading,  don't  you 
think?" 

"Yes,  Miss!"  said  John  Tucker,  submissively.  His 
reading  was  confined  to  the  State  Farmer,  but  never 
again  would  he  differ  from  his  idol  in  any  particular. 

"And  as  for  what  is  lovely,  and  so  on — "  Kitty's 
eyes  and  voice  softened  to  the  look  and  tone  that  were 
specially  for  her  mother — "I  think — John,  would  it  be 
good  for  Pilot  to  live  entirely  on  oats,  and  to  trot  al- 
ways on  a  perfectly  level  State  road  ?  No  ?  I  thought 

250 


Kitty  Sings 

not!  And  if  he  never  did  anything  but  speed  in  a 
trotting  sulky,  you  wouldn't  say  he  was  being  of  any 
great  use  in  the  world?  No,  I  thought  not!  And 
now  it  is  half-past  ten,  John  Tucker,  and  if  you  don't 
put  Pilot  into  the  beach  wagon,  I  must." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

OLD   LOVE   AND    NEW 

WHY  was  Pilot  put  into  the  beach  wagon  in- 
stead of  the  buggy?  Because  it  was  the 
wedding  anniversary  of  the  Reverend  Tim- 
othy Chanter  and  his  Susan,  and  they  were  going  on 
their  annual  picnic  together.  Unlike  the  Gilpin  pair  of 
immortal  memory,  they  did  not  take  the  children  with 
them.  The  children  saw  them  off  at  the  door,  with 
many  injunctions  to  be  good,  and  to  have  a  wonder- 
ful time,  and  not  to  get  lost,  as  they  did  two  years 
ago. 

"Kitty,"  cried  Lina,  ecdo  blase  a  tree  at  the  place 
where  you  leave  them,  won't  you?  They  are  not  to 
be  trusted  in  the  least." 

On  this  one  day  of  the  year,  the  minister  and  his 
wife  cast  care  to  the  winds,  locked  duty  up  in  the 
cupboard,  and  even  shut  the  door  on  parental  respon- 
sibility. They  were  no  longer  Drudge  and  Druojgess, 
as  the  girls,  exasperated  at  the  vanity  of  efforts  to 
"save  Pa  and  Ma,"  sometimes  called  them :  they  were 
Tim  and  Sue  off  on  their  holiday.  They  were  to  be 
taken  first  for  a  spin  behind  Pilot,  because  that  was 
the  greatest  treat  the  Reverend  Timothy  could  offer  his 
faithful  partner;  then  they  were  to  be  left  at  a  cer- 

252 


Old  Love  and  New 


tain  place  near  the  Lancaston  Road,  where  the  wood 
dipped  sharply  to  a  cup,  enclosing  a  round  pool,  with 
a  waterfall  above  it,  and  a  ribbon  of  streamlet  wind- 
ing away  at  either  end.  Here  they  would  sit  and  eat 
their  luncheon,  carefully  prepared  by  Daughters;  cold 
chicken  (dear  Madam  Flynt  always  sent  them  a 
chicken  the  day  before,  one  of  her  own  prize  Rhode 
Island  Reds!),  nut  bread  (Zephine's  specialty),  cof- 
fee and  sponge  cake  (which  no  one  could  make  like 
Lina),  and  some  of  dear  Nelly's  cream  peppermints 
to  top  off  with. 

These  cates  disposed  of,  the  Reverend  Timothy 
would  light  his  pipe,  and  lean  back  against  a  sun- 
warmed  boulder,  at  peace  with  the  world,  while  Mrs. 
Chanter  read  aloud  a  certain  chapter  of  "Prue  and  I" 
which  had  been  the  precipitating  drop  in  their  cup  of 
happiness  twenty-three  years  before.  Then  he  would 
go  to  sleep,  dear  man,  and  she  would  knit,  and  think 
what  a  happy  woman  she  was,  and  wonder  if  there 
was  enough  mutton  for  to-morrow,  or  if  she  must 
have  a  vegetable  chowder.  By  and  by,  when  the  sun- 
beams began  to  slant  through  the  firs,  she  would  wake 
her  lord,  who  would  fear  he  had  missed  that  last  sen- 
tence, my  love!  and  the  two  would  wander  happily 
through  the  wood  and  along  the  elm-shaded  road,  and 
so  home  in  time  for  the  wonderful  supper  the  girls 
would  have  ready,  and  the  glorified  table  round  which 
all  six  children  would  be  gathered.  A  golden  day,  for 
two  golden  hearts!  May  their  fiftieth  anniversary 
find  them  hale  and  vigorous  as  their  twenty-third! 

This  was  Mrs.  Chanter's  first  spin  behind  Pilot;  it 
253 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


should  be  her  last,  she  resolved,  as  she  clung  terrified 
to  the  low  railing  of  the  beach  wagon.  It  was  a  bright 
June  morning,  and  Pilot  was  "feelin'  extry  good,"  as 
John  Tucker  had  intimated  to  Kitty ;  he  flung  the  miles 
behind  him  in  a  nonchalant  rapture  that  was  all  his 
own.  Once  Mrs.  Chanter  opened  her  lips  to  cry  out, 
but  a  glance  at  her  husband's  face  of  delight  closed 
them  again.  After  all,  the  children  were  all  grown! 

"Thank  you,  Kitty!"  cried  Mr.  Chanter,  as  they 
dismounted  at  the  edge  of  the  Lancaston  woods. 
"Thank  you,  my  dear!  this  has  been  a  wonderful,  won- 
derful treat;  hasn't  it,  Susan?" 

"Wonderful!"  echoed  Mrs.  Chanter,  dryly.  "Next 
time  I'll  have  Podasokus,  please,  Kitty;  or  if  he  has 
left  us,  then  that  nice  old  woolly  thing:  Crummies,  is 
he  ?  No  more  Pilot  for  me,  my  dear !" 

Kitty  laughed  and  sped  away,  leaving  the  worthy 
couple  to  gaze  admiringly  after  her  for  a  moment  be- 
fore they  turned  into  the  wood,  hand  in  hand. 

"Glorious  girl!"  said  the  Reverend  Timothy.  "Glo- 
rious horse!" 

"He'll  break  her  neck  some  day !"  said  his  Susan. 

Joy  of  the  road  on  a  June  morning!  Elms  arching 
overhead,  in  long  feathery  arcades,  or  giving  way  to 
groups  of  singing  pines,  and  clusters  of  white  birches 
that  rustled  and  whispered  together  like  Nausicaa  and 
her  maidens.  Under  these,  stretches  of  gray  stone 
wall  along  which  the  chipmunks  whisked,  trying  in 
vain  to  keep  pace  with  Pilot's  flying  feet;  stretches, 
again,  of  stump  fence,  the  silver-bleached  bones  of 
ancient  giants,  with  sturdy  new  growth  of  fir  and 

254 


Old  Love  and  New 


hemlock  pushing  up  between  their  locked  skeleton- 
arms.  Between  fence  or  wall  and  the  white  ribbon  of 
road,  a  strip  of  green  a  few  yards  wide,  sown  thick 
with  the  jewels  of  early  summer.  Ferns  of  every 
variety,  from  the  lady-fern  which  Kitty  always  thought 
so  like  Mother,  in  the  pale  green  dresses  she  loved,  to 
towering  plumes  of  ostrich  fern  and  tumbled  masses 
of  Osmnnda  regalis.  There  was  maiden-hair,  too, 
Kitty  knew,  hiding  in  the  crannies  of  the  stone  wall, 
but  that  could  not  be  seen  from  the  road.  The  cin- 
namon roses  were  out,  sweet  and  untidy  as  Her- 
rick's  tempestuously-petticoated  girl;  "Virgin's  Bow- 
er" flung  its  white-starred  veil  over  rock  and  tan- 
gle. Kitty,  flashing  quick  glances,  as  she  sped  along, 
saw  and  loved  it  all.  The  world  held  no  tears  any 
more;  how  should  it,  on  a  day  like  this? 

"My  heart  leaps  up  when  I  behold,  Pilot !"  cried  the 
girl.  "Can't  you  hear  it,  Beloved?  And  oh — and  oh 
— and  Oh!  pearl  of  Poppets,  do  you  see  whom  \ve  are 
overhauling?  Do  you  see,  Pilot?  If  my  middle  name 
is  not  Clotho" 

Melissa  and  Bobby  were  walking  slowly  along  the 
road.  Bobby  had  come  over  for  the  Anniversary 
Supper,  of  course.  It  was  one  of  Melissa's  free  after- 
moons  (the  library  was  open  only  three  days  in  the 
week)  ;  it  was  all  perfectly  simple.  Bobby  came  pretty 
often  nowadays,  and  Sister  Lissy  happened  to  be  pass- 
ing the  station  about  train  time.  They  were  near  the 
village  now.  The  two  were  deep  in  talk,  and  paid  no 
heed  to  the  approaching  wheels.  Melissa,  who  hardly 
knew  a  baseball  from  a  football,  was  listening  with 

255 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


bated  breath  and  kindling  eyes  to  a  highly  technical  de- 
scription of  yesterday's  game. 

"Binks  got  base  on  balls,  you  see,  and  walked;  then 
Joyce  threw  to  third  to  put  out  Bacon,  but  Hodges 
fumbled,  so  Bacon  ran  home,  and  Binks  went  to  sec- 
ond, and  then  I  got  in  a  three-bagger  and  made  a 
home-run." 

"Oh,  Bobby!  how  splendid!  What  a  wonderful 
game !  I  wish  I  could  see  one !" 

"You  can!"  said  Bobby  kindly.  "I'll  make  one  of 
the  girls  bring  you  over  next  time.  And  I'll  get  you 
a  Corona  banner!"  he  added.  "A  sister  ought  to 
wear  her  brother's  colors,  what,  Lissy?" 

It  is  not  stated  whose  color  it  was  that  flamed  in 
Lissy's  cheeks  as  she  looked  up  with  shining  eyes;  it 
was  very  pretty  anyhow,  Bobby  tho.ught.  He  had 
never  realized  till  lately  what  a  pretty  girl  Lissy  was. 
Hazel  eyes  were  warmer,  somehow,  than  gray,  though 
of  course 

"Hilo!"  cried  Kitty,  checking  Pilot  with  a  touch. 

No  living  horse,  she  always  maintained,  not  even 
Angel  Dan,  made  such  a  beautiful  stop  as  Pilot. 

"Hilo,  folks!  Don't  you  want  a  lift?"  Glancing  at 
Lissy's  face,  she  added  quickly,  "I  don't  mean  just 
home.  I'm  going  to  give  this  Lamb  a  little  speed  along 
the  State  Road.  Will  you  come?" 

"Gee!  Won't  we?"  cried  Bobby.  A  speed  behind 
Pilot  was  a  thing  rarely  offered,  and  not  to  be  refused 
by  any  Cyrus  youth.  "Come  on,  Lissy!" 

Melissa  hung  back.  She  was  mortally  afraid  of 
Pilot,  and  of  Kitty's  reckless  driving.  Besides — ought 

256 


Old  Love  and  New 


she  not  to  leave  them?  Would  he  not  rather — A  lit- 
tle cold  snake  seemed  to  creep  about  the  girl's  heart. 
It  wasn't  fair!  Kitty  didn't  want  him  till  she  saw 
some  one  else — oh,  Lissy!  Lissy! 

"Jump  in,  Lissy!"  cried  Bobby  joyously.  "You 
scared  of  Pilot?  I  believe  she  is,  Kitty!  now,  then! 
In  you  go!" 

In  Lissy  went,  Bobby  following;  off  went  Pilot,  at 
a  three  minute  clip.  °ast  fled  the  landscape,  a  blur 
of  green,  blue  and  white.  Melissa,  all  in  a  moment 
her  mother's  daughter,  sat  crouched  on  the  seat,  clutch- 
ing the  rail.  Bobby,  in  a  state  of  high  delight,  glanced 
at  her  for  sympathy,  and  saw  her  pale  and  trembling, 
her  eyes  brimming  with  frightened  tears. 

"Why,  Lissy!"  he  said.  Involuntarily  he  held  out 
his  hand ;  a  little  cold  trembling  hand  slid  instantly  into 
it  and  was  warmly  grasped.  Poor  little  hand !  it  quiv- 
ered like  a  frightened  bird,  yet  nestled  close  in  his,  as 
a  bird  would  not. 

"Don't  be  scared !"  cried  Bobby.  "Pilot's  steady  as 
a  rock,  isn't  he,  Kitty?  Perhaps,"  he  added,  "you 
might  slow  down  just  a  scrap,  though,  Kitty.  I  hate 
to,  but " 

This  was  heroic  of  Bobby,  who  loved  fast  driving 
as  his  father  did. 

Kitty  said  a  word  to  Pilot,  who  cocked  an  indulgent 
ear,  and  slowed  down  to  four  minutes. 

"Why,  Lissy,"  she  laughed  over  her  shoulder,  "rocks 
are  flighty  compared  to  Pilot ;  positively  flighty !  You 
saw  how  he  stopped.  I  can  stop  him  any  instant,  just 
like  that.  Lean  back  and  enjoy  yourself!" 

257 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


Absorbed  in  her  role  of  the  youngest  Fate,  and  used 
to  fast  driving  from  her  cradle,  Kitty  could  not  real- 
ize the  state  of  mind  of  an  extremely  timid  girl,  as- 
sailed by  mingled  pangs  of  terror  and  jealousy.  It 
was  not  till  they  had  reached  the  spot  she  had  in  mind 
for  the  development  of  her  plan  that,  glancing  round, 
she  comprehended  how  for  pleasure  she  was  giving  on 
the  one  hand  anguish,  and  on  the  other  embarrass- 
ment, if  not  distress.  Melissa  was  leaning  against 
her  companion's  shoulder  with  closed  eyes  and  com- 
pressed lips:  Bobby,  red-faced  and  round-eyed,  was 
holding  her  hand.  His  eyes  met  Kitty's  with  an  ex- 
pression of  mingled  deprecation,  admiration  and  rep- 
robation, which  was  too  much  for  that  young  woman's 
composure. 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!"  her  laughter  broke  out  bell-like;  then 
she  checked  herself. 

"Oh !  I  am  so  sorry !  Lissy,  you  poor  child,  I  never 
thought — I  never  dreamed — Sst,  Pilot !" 

Pilot  stopped,  and  stood  like  the  least  flighty  of 
rocks. 

"I  am  so  sorry !"  Kitty  repeated  penitently.  "Bobby, 
why  didn't  you  tell  me  ?  Are  you  going  to  give  me  in 
charge  for  fast  driving?" 

"Oh,  I  say!"  cried  a  distracted  Bobby.  "Gee,  Kitty, 
it  was  perfectly  great,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned,  but 
I  do  suppose  we  were  going  a  pretty  good  clip,  what  ? 
Poor  little  Lissy !" 

"Now,  I'll  tell  you  what!" 

Clotho  Kitty  advanced  to  her  second  parallel. 

"This  is  where  I  really  meant  to  stop.     I  want  you 

258 


Old  Love  and  New 


both  to  see  the  view  from  that  high  rock !"  she  nodded 
toward  a  huge  boulder  that  frowned  from  the  hillside 
above  the  road.  "It's  really  beautiful,  and  you  said 
the  other  day  you  had  never  climbed  the  rock,  Lissy. 
It's  only  a  minute's  climb,  with  a  good  strong  paw  like 
Bobby's  to  pull  you  up.  It  will  shake  your  crinkles 
out,  and  steady  your  nerves ;  and  we  will  crawl  home, 
Lissy  dear!"  said  penitent  Kitty. 

Lissy  dismounted  and  stretched  her  cramped  limbs. 
Bobby  followed,  with  a, doubtful  glance  at  Kitty.  Was 
she  sure  Pilot  would  stand?  Sure  she  didn't  want 
him  to ?  Reassured  on  that  point  by  her  laugh- 
ing shake  of  the  head,  he  turned  to  the  big  rock.  It 
was  a  brief,  but  a  stiff  little  climb;  all  his  energies  were 
required  to  pilot  Melissa,  timid  and  unused  to  climb- 
ing. Neither  of  them  heard  the  low,  clear  whistle,  or 
saw  the  black  horse  toss  his  head  in  reply,  then  settle 
down  in  the  shafts  like  a  cat  settling  to  her  spring. 
They  gained  the  top,  prepared  to  enjoy  the  view,  which 
really  was  fine;  when  Melissa  uttered  a  cry, 

"Oh!  oh,  Bobby,  look!  Kitty!" 

Pilot  was  off.  Had  something  startled  him,  or  was 
it  the  inherent  viciousness  of  which  Melissa  had  al- 
ways felt  sure?  Off  down  the  road  like  an  arrow. 

"He  is  running  away!"  cried  Melissa.  "She  can't 
hold  him  any  more  than  she  could  the  wind.  Oh,  what 
shall  we  do?  What  shall  we  do?" 

"Sit  down!"  commanded  Bobby.  "Sit  still,  Lissy, 
till  I  come  back!"  With  the  word,  he  slithered  down 
the  rock  and  set  out  running  along  the  road  at  his  best 
pace.  It  was  a  good  pace ;  Bobby  Chanter  was  the  best 

259 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


runner  in  Corona.  Even  in  her  terror,  Melissa  noticed 
how  beautifully  he  ran,  how  nobly  he  threw  his  head 

back,  how  splendid what  horse  could  cope  with  a 

Marathon  runner  ?  Then  a  new  pang  assailed  her.  She 
crouched  on  the  rock  and  wrung  her  hands  in  an  ecs- 
tasy of  terror.  He  might  be  hurt,  trying  to  stop  the  mad 
creature.  He  might  be  trampled  on!  Wicked,  hateful 
horse!  wicked  girl  to  drive  such  a  creature,  risking 
lives  that  were  more  precious 

Bobby,  reaching  a  curve  in  the  road,  saw  Pilot  skim- 
ming swallow-like  along  the  next  reach.  At  that  mo- 
ment, Kitty  turned  in  her  seat,  and  saw  him.  A  flash, 
a  smile,  a  wave  of  the  hand — she  shot  round  a  second 
curve  and  vanished.  Bobby  Chanter  stopped  abruptly. 

"She's  got  him  under!"  he  muttered.  "She's  go- 
ing to  turn  and  come  back." 

He  waited  for  some  minutes,  but  in  vain.  No  one 
came.  Sorely  puzzled,  Bobby  retraced  his  steps,  look- 
ing over  his  shoulder  from  time  to  time.  That  horse 
wasn't  bolting.  She  had  him  under  control  all  right. 
What  upon  earth — Bobby  positively  scowled  in  his  per- 
plexity. Had  Kitty  meant  to  leave  them  behind  ?  And 
why  ?  Why?  It  was  freakish ;  Kitty  never  used  to  be 
freakish.  It  was  hardly  even  kind;  poor  little  Lissy, 
scared  to  death  there  up  on  the  rock.  She  would  never 
have  played  Kitty  a  trick  like  that.  She  was  very  sweet. 
How  her  little  hand  trembled  as  it  rested  in  his!  A 
girl  ought  not  to  be  too  independent,  though  of  course 
Kitty  was  the  finest 

Bobby  Chanter  stopped  short;  the  blood  rushed 
singing  up  into  his  ears,  and  he  stood  in  the  middle  of 

260 


Old  Love  and  New 


the  road,  as  if  he  had  been  struck.  What  was  that 
Kitty  said  to  him,  the  last  time  he  tried — A  strange 
thing  to  say,  he  thought  at  the  moment. 

"Bobby,  how  foolish  you  are!  I  really  wonder  at 
you.  You  are  like  the  man  that  lighted  his  lantern,  a 
beautiful,  clear,  bright,  little  lantern,  and  then  put  it 
down  and  went  after  a  will-o'-the-wisp." 

"I  don't  in  the  least  understand  you,  Kitty !"  he  had 
said  ruefully,  for  her  tone  was  almost  sharp. 

"No  more  did  the  bat;  I  mean  the  man!"  snapped 
Kitty,  and  she  turned  her  back  and  left  him.  It  was  at 
the  Library  door,  and  Melissa  was  just  coming  out. 
How  pretty  she  looked  that  day,  too;  her  eyes  seemed 

to  light  up  when  she  looked  at  a  fellow !  Was was 

that  what  Kitty  meant?  He  was  walking  again,  faster 
now;  thinking  hard  as  he  went,  putting  two  and  two 
together  in  a  fashion  new  to  his  simple,  objective  mind. 

Was  that  what  Kitty  meant?  Other  words  of  hers 
came  flocking  back  to  him. 

"I  want  you  to  be  happy,  Bobby !  You  might  be  so 
happy,  if  you  weren't  just  a  little  stupid,  Bobby  dear!" 

That  seemed  rather  cruel  at  the  time,  when  he  had 
pulled  through  those  rotten  exams.  What  if  she 

hadn't  meant  that  at  all?  What  if she  was  awfully 

fond  of  Lissy,  he  knew;  and  he  knew  she  liked  him, 
too,  she  said  she  did,  though  she  never  offered  to  be  a 
sister  to  him,  as  Lissy  did.  Lissy  had  a  rotten  time  at 
home,  he  guessed,  with  that  Wilse,  and  her  mother 
always  putting  him  first.  She  was  too  soft  and  gentle 
to  stand  up  for  herself.  What  was  that  Kitty  said 
again?  He  ought  to  have  a  sweet,  gentle,  feminine 

261 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


girl,  not  a  daughter  of  Jehu,  who  drove  furiously.  He 
hadn't  understood  that,  either.  Had  he  been  a  Nut 
all  this  time  ?  Hark !  what  was  that  ? 

A  sound  came  to  his  ears;  a  breathless,  sobbing 
wail. 

"Bobby !  oh !  Bobby ! !  oh,  my  heart !" 

A  great  clump  of  lilacs  hid  the  road  ahead.  Hasten- 
ing round  it,  he  saw  Melissa  running  toward  him,  crim- 
son, panting,  the  tears  rolling  down  her  cheeks  as  she 
sobbed  and  ran  and  sobbed  again. 

"Allow  two  minutes!"  says  Mr.  Ezra  Barkley  in  an 
immortal  Tale.  Bobby  did  not  allow  one.  In  ten  sec- 
onds he  had  gathered  his  little  sweetheart  in  his  arms, 
pulled  her  in  behind  the  big  lilac  bush,  and  was  sooth- 
ing, comforting,  pouring  tender  words  into  her  ear. 

"There,  dear;  there,  Lissy!  there,  my  little  girl! 
You  are  my  little  girl,  aren't  you  ?  My  own  dear  lit- 
tle girl !  Don't  cry,  sweetheart !  What  frightened  you, 
Lissy?" 

"Oh!  oh!"  sobbed  Lissy.  "I  thought  he  would 
trample  on  you.  I  thought  you  would  be  lying  on  the 
road  all  dead  and  bleeding.  Oh,  Bobby!  Bobby!  Did 
he  hurt  you  ?" 

"Did  who  hurt  me,  darling?  Here!  let's  sit  down! 
Put  your  dear  little  head  on  my  shoulder;  so!  comfy? 
Did  who  hurt  me,  Lissy?" 

"The  dreadful  horse!  I  thought  he  would  trample 
on  you !  oh !  oh !" 

She  started  at  Bobby's  shout  of  laughter. 

"Lissy!  honestly!  you  didn't  think  I  could  catch 
Pilot?  Gee!  that  is  a  good  one!" 

262 


Old  Love  and  New 


The  great  lilac  bush  had  seen  lovers  in  its  day ;  shel- 
tered them,  too.  A  generation  ago,  it  had  marked  a 
gateway;  the  cellar  hole  of  the  house  still  yawned  in 
the  field,  half  filled  with  wild  raspberry  bushes.  If 
not  Jemmy  and  Jessamy,  at  least  Zekle  and  Huldy,  or 
their  prototypes,  had  sauntered  down  the  lawn  with 
arms  linked,  and  had  sat  under  the  great  bush,  shel- 
tered from  lane  and  road  by  tossing,  purple  plumes. 
Yes,  the  lilac  bush  knew  all  about  it,  and  bent  kindly 
over  Bobby  and  Lissy  as  they  sat  in  their  turn,  hand 
in  hand,  pouring  out  the  wonderful  new  story  that 
had  never,  never,  never  been  told  before. 

By  and  by  (  for  not  even  new  love  could  make  Bobby 
unconscious  of  Dinner  Time!)  they  walked  home,  and 
the  road  was  paved  with  gold,  and  the  skies  above  were 
diamond  and  sapphire,  and  the  world  was  very  fair. 

And  Kitty?  If  the  truth  must  be  told,  they  did  not 
once  think  of  Kitty  till  they  reached  the  Wibird  door. 
Then  Melissa,  with  a  conscience-stricken  blush,  won- 
dered if  Kitty  was  all  right,  and  Bobby,  with  another, 
guessed  she  was.  Then  his  honest  heart  smote  him, 
and  after  one  last  look  and  handclasp,  he  went  straight 
off  to  Ross  House  and  told  Kitty  all  about  it.  Then 
who  so  happy  as  Clotho  Kitty?  She  took  Bobby's 
hands  and  danced  up  and  down  the  hall  with  him.  She 
had  not  been  so  happy,  she  vowed,  since  she  was  prob- 
ably arboreal.  Never  mind  what  she  meant !  She  was 
just  sitting  down  to  dinner,  all  alone,  and  Bobby  must 
and  should  sit  down  with  her.  They  would  have  a 
feast,  the  Feast  of  Friendship.  There  was  chicken  pie ! 

"Come  on,  Bobby!  we'll  drink  all  our  healths  in 
263 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


pineapple  lemonade.  Sarepta!  Sarepta!  Put  another 
plate,  will  you?  Bobby  is  stopping  to  dinner!" 

Sarepta  laid  another  plate,  outwardly  grim,  in- 
wardly rejoicing.  Men  folks  seemed  to  have  more 
real  understanding  of  pastry  than  what  women- folks 
did,  some  way  of  it.  She  thawed  visibly  with  every 
crunch  of  Bobby's  enraptured  teeth.  She  brought  ham 
and  tongue  and  little  crisp  home-made  sausages  the 
size  of  Bobby's  little  finger,  over  which  he  fairly 
groaned  with  delight. 

"Honestly,  Sarepta!"  he  kept  saying.  "Honestly! 
On  the  square  now,  I  never  did!" 

When  it  came  to  fruit  jelly  with  whipped  cream, 
Bobby  sighed  deeply,  and  Kitty  had  an  inspiration. 
She  caught  up  the  pretty  dish  and  rose  from  table. 

"You  are  to  take  this  straight  down  to  Lissy  and 
eat  it  with  her!"  she  commanded.  "Hush!  not  a 
word !  Sarepta,  a  fringed  doily,  please !  Bobby  is  go- 
ing to  take  this  to may  I  Bobby?  Sarepta  is  a  tomb 

of  secrecy! to  his  dear,  sweet,  darling  Melissa,  and 

eat  it  with  her.  One  more  glass,  Bobby !  Sarepta  must 
have  one  too !  To  the  health  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robert 
Chanter!  Hip!  hip!  hooray!" 

"Honestly,  Kitty!"  Bobby's  voice  faltered  and 
broke.  "Honestly!  You  are  the  greatest  girl  in  the 
world — bar  one,  I'll  have  to  say  now,  won't  I  ?  Good- 
bye! God  bless  you,  Kitty!" 

"Well,  of  all  the  Actions!"  said  Sarepta  Darwin. 


CHAPTER  XIX 
"THE  TRIVIAL  ROUND" 

I  THINK  the  next  month  was  the  hardest  that 
Kitty  had  to  encounter  in  what  she  used  after- 
ward to  call  her  Woful  Waiting-.  Of  course  she 
missed  Miss  Johanna — I  beg  her  pardon! — Mrs.  Pe- 
ters, wo  fully.  Ever  since  she  came  back  (after  the 
first  few  days,  that  is)  she  had  had  this  bright,  sharp, 
cheery  person  to  go  to,  to  talk  and  take  counsel  with. 
I  always  supposed  that  one  reason  for  Miss  Johanna's 
taking  to  her  bed  was  her  wish  to  let  Kitty  live  her  own 
life.  Indeed,  she  said  as  much  one  day  while  I  was 
sitting  with  her. 

"Yes!"  she  said,  with  her  little  brisk  snap.  "T  see 
just  as  much  of  Kitty  as  she  likes.  I  don't  poke  about 
in  her  house ;  I  wouldn't  have  anybody  poking  about  in 
mine.  When  she  wants  me,  I  am  here,  delighted  to 
see  her.  When  she  doesn't — well,  I  am  here  just  the 
same,  and  not  downstairs  under  her  feet.  Blessings 
of  the  Bedridden,  my  dear.  Appreciated  by  few,  but 
tangible  none  the  less." 

My  visit  in  beloved  Cyrus  had  ended  long  before 
this,  but  Kitty  had  dropped  a  word  now  and  then  in 
her  letters;  and  Nelly  Chanter  wrote  me  that  they 
were  all  worried  about  her. 

265 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


"She  is  as  gay  and  cheery  as  ever,  but  she  doesn't 
look  right.  I  am  perfectly  sure  she  has  lost  pounds, 
though  of  course  nothing  would  persuade  her  to  be 
weighed.  You  see,  that  cat  Cissy  Sharpe  got  hold  of 
a  western  paper  somehow  in  Tinkham,  with  the  ac- 
count of  the  marriage  of  Thomas  Leigh  to  a  rich 
widow,  millions,  marble  palaces,  that  kind  of  thing. 
She  didn't  show  Kitty  the  paper,  just  told  her  about  it 
in  the  street,  and  she  said  Kitty  went  white  as  milk  and 
didn't  say  a  word,  just  walked  away,  looking  as  if 
she  were  blind.  Then  she — Cissy — came  to  Lina  and 
me,  open-mouthed,  as  you  can  imagine :  I  tell  you  we 
gave  it  to  her!  And  Lina,  in  her  quiet  way,  cross- 
examined  her  and  got  out  of  her  that  it  was  Leigh 
and  not  Lee.  Did  you  ever,  Mary?  Well,  the  next 
time  I  saw  Kitty,  I  managed  to  lead  up  to  it — talk- 
ing about  Bobby  and  Lissy  (yes,  we  are  all  very  fond 
of  Lissy,  and  it  is  all  right,  though,  of  course,  it  was 
a  blow  at  first,  after  all  our  hopes;  but  Bobby  is  so 
happy,  of  course  we  are  too ! )  well,  and  so  I  spoke  of 
the  report,  about  Tom  and  the  different  spelling,  said 
I  didn't  believe  it  was  our  Tom  at  all,  and  so  forth  and 
so  on.  She  just  listened,  that  little  quiet  way  she  has 
when  she  doesn't  agree  with  you, — you  know — her 
head  a  little  on  one  side,  looking  down :  and  said  yes, 
very  likely.  That  was  all  I  could  get  out  of  her;  but, 
Mary,  I  think  she  has  made  up  her  mind  that  he  isn't 
coming  back;  and  I  think  her  heart  is  breaking,  and 
all  ours  are  breaking  for  her." 

This  was  partly  true.  Kitty  did  at  this  time  make 
up  her  mind  that  Tom  was  not  likely  to  come  into  her 

266 


'The  Trivial  Round' 


life  again;  she  has  told  me  that  since,  and  that  she  was 
very  unhappy  for  a  while;  but  as  to  breaking  her 
heart — Nelly  always  was  sentimental.  Kitty  is  not. 
She  just  looked  the  thing  straight  in  the  face — that 
reminds  me  of  something  she  said,  that  puts  it  all  in  a 
nutshell.  It  was  on  my  first  visit  after  her  marriage, 
and  we  were  talking  over  our  sewing,  sitting  on  the 
old  leather  sofa.  She  spoke  of  the  Woful  Waiting. 

"It  wasn't  really  so  bad!"  she  said.  "It  was — do 
you  remember  that  verse  in  the  'Ancient  Mariner'  that 
always  frightened  me  so? 

"  'Like  one  that  on  a  lonesome  road 

Doth  walk  in  fear  and  dread, 
And  having  once  turned  round,  walks  on, 

And  turns  no  more  his  head, 
Because  he  knows  a  frightful  fiend 
Doth  close  behind  him  tread.' 

"That  used  to  come  to  me  in  the  long  passages  up- 
stairs, and  I  would  run — oh,  how  I  ran !  Well,  Mary, 
it  was  like  that.  Ever  since  I  came  back  and  found  no 
word  from  Tom,  I  had  felt  this  behind  me.  I  had  just 
seen  it  over  my  shoulder  and  I  wouldn't  turn  round  and 
look  at  it :  I  was  afraid.  But  when  I  heard — that,  you 
know ;  something  definite,  whether  it  was  true  or  not — 
I  turned  square  round  and  looked  at  it,  and  I  found  it 
wasn't  so  frightful  after  all.  I  wanted  Tom  to  be 
happy,  didn't  I?  I  didn't  want  him  back  if  he  didn't 
want  to  come.  I  saw  all  the  dear  neighbors,  so  many 
of  them  living  single — really  most  of  them,  Mary! 
Cyrus  is  the  most  unmarried  place  that  ever  was,  I 

267 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


do  believe !  and  all  so  good,  and  so  happy  and  busy — 
why,  I  said,  'Goose !  do  try  to  have  a  little  sense !'  That 
helped  me  ever  so  much,  Mary.  I  don't  say  I  liked 
it,  you  know,  but — well,  it  was  easier  because  it  was 
harder,  if  you  see  what  I  mean.  And  then — I  began  to 
do  things,  and  that  helped  too." 

I  had  heard  of  some  of  the  things  she  began  to  do 
at  this  time.  It  was  then  that  she  began  the  Saturday 
picnics  for  the  school  children,  taking  a  wagonload 
of  them  out  with  Old  Crummies  to  some  lovely  pas- 
ture or  woodpiece,  and  frolicking  with  them  all  the 
morning.  Then  would  come  the  feast :  always  chicken 
pie,  because  Kitty  thought  children  liked  that  better 
than  anything  else  (except  icecream,  which  was  sloppy 
to  take  on  picnics)  currant  buns  and  raspberry  tart- 
lets and  lemonade  in  a  stone  jug.  What  times  those 
children  did  have!  Then,  too,  little  by  little,  she 
found  out  all  the  "poor  things"  for  miles  around.  Half- 
invalids,  who  needed  carriage  exercise;  tired  country 
women  who  had  no  horse  and  could  not  walk  so  far  as 
the  village  for  their  errands;  sad  people  with  few 
"privileges,"  to  whom  a  cheery  call,  a  book  or  maga- 
zine or  nosegay  would  change  the  hue  of  a  whole  day 
from  drab  to  rose-color.  Kitty  found  them  all  out, 
and  took  them  "buggy-riding,"  or  sat  on  their  steps 
and  told  them  gay  little  stories.  Every  child  for  ten 
miles  round  Cyrus  knew  her,  and  set  up  a  shout  of 
"Miskitty!  Miskitty!"  (the  first  syllable  strongly  ac- 
cented!) "gimme  a  ride!"  She  loved  them  all,  but 
John  Tucker  often  wished  there  was  no  such  a  thing 
as  young  uns  in  the  endurin'  world. 

268 


The  Trivial  Round' 


She  told  me  of  a  pleasant  happening. 

One  day  she  brought  old  Mrs.  Grieven  in  to  do  some 
shopping,  and  waited  outside  Cheeseman's  while  the 
old  lady  pottered  in  and  out  of  the  various  stores.  Just 
in  front  of  her  stood  a  peddler's  wagon,  very  neat 
and  trim,  with  a  brown  horse  attached  to  it.  A  bag 
was  attached  to  the  horse's  nose,  and  he  was  asleep. 
Kitty  looked  him  over  approvingly.  A  good  horse; 
a  bit  cobby  and  stocky ;  no  speed,  she  judged,  but  much 
steadiness,  and — she  added  mentally,  as  the  horse 
waked  and  turned  an  appraising  eye  on  Dan — some  in- 
telligence. At  this  moment  Mr.  Cheeseman's  door 
opened  and  a  man  came  out;  a  tall,  loose-jointed  brown 
man,  with  a  sea-going  air  about  him.  A  new  face  to 
Kitty :  she  loved  a  new  face ;  a  good  one,  too.  Their 
eyes  met;  the  brown  man  made  a  little  gesture,  as 
friendly  as  it  was  courteous.  His  arms  were  full  of 
glass  jars,  small  and  large,  containing  bright-hued 
candies;  these  he  proceeded  to  stow  away  carefully  on 
the  shelves  of  the  neat  cupboard  at  the  back  of  his 
wagon.  Over  the  shelves  were  drawers,  labeled 
"Lozenges,"  "Jujubes,"  etc.,  etc.  These  he  filled  with 
neat  rolls  and  parcels  produced  from  various  pockets. 
As  he  worked  he  hummed  and  whistled  under  his 
breath,  and  presently  broke  into  song,  in  a  mellow 
baritone  voice. 

"  'Now  Renzo  caught  a  fever, 

That's  what  Renzo  caught,  tiddy  hi ! 
It  sot  him  all  a-queever, 
So  haul  the  bowline,  haul ! 
269 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


He  took  to  his  bed  and  the  doctor  come, 
And  give  him  a  dose  that  sure  was  some, 
For  it  h'isted  him  off  to  Kingdom  Come, 
So  haul  the  bowline,  haul !'  " 

Kitty  was  reserved  enough  in  some  ways,  but  she 
never  could  restrain  her  laughter;  she  gave  a  little 
crow  at  the  fate  of  "Renzo,"  the  conclusion,  had  she 
but  known  it,  of  an  eventful  life.  The  brown  man 
turned  with  a  responsive  chuckle. 

"There !"  he  said.  "I  was  warblin',  warn't  I  ?  You 
must  excuse  me,  lady;  I'm  a  sea-farin'  man,  and  I 
have  to  warble,  'pears  though :  I  b'lieve  I  warble  in  my 
sleep." 

"It  was  so  funny,  I  couldn't  help  laughing!"  said 
Kitty.  "Poor  Renzo!  is  there  any  more  about  him?" 

"Oh,  my,  yes!  old  Renzo!  There's  more  songs  and 
chanteys  about  him  than  you  could  shake  a  stick  at. 
Renzo  or  Ranzo — I've  heard  much  as  a  dozen  of  'em. 
This  one's  the  only  one  I  know  clear'n  through, 
though." 

"Oh!  please!  won't  you  sing  it  all  for  me?"  Kitty 
leaned  forward,  her  eyes  aglow. 

"Why,  it  ain't  nothin'  but  an  old  sailor  song,  you 
understand,  but  you're  welcome  to  it,  such  as  'tis." 

Leaning  comfortably  against  the  back  of  his  wagon, 
his  brown  gaze  wandering  placidly  up  and  down  the 
street,  the  brown  man  sang  as  follows : 

"Now  Renzo  was  a  sailor; 

That's  what  Renzo  was,  tiddy  hi ! 
He  surely  warn't  a  tailor, 
So  haul  the  bowline,  haul! 
270 


The  Trivial  Round' 


He  went  adrift  in  Casco  Bay, 
Mate  to  a  mud-scow  haulin'  hay, 
And  he  come  home  late  for  his  weddin'  day, 
So  haul  the  bowline,  haul ! 

"Now  Renzo  had  a  feedle, 

That's  what  Renzo  had,  tiddy  hi ! 
Twas  humped  up  in  the  meedle, 

So  haul  the  bowline,  haul ! 
He  played  a  tune,  and  the  old  cow  died, 
And  the  skipper  and  crew  jumped  over  the  side, 
And  swum  away  on  the  slack  of  the  tide, 

So  haul  the  bowline,  haul ! 

"Now  Renzo  had  a  parrot, 

That's  what  Renzo  had,  tiddy  hi! 
He  liked  a  piece  of  carrot, 

So  haul  the  bowline,  haul ! 
They  gave  him  a  turnip  once  instead, 
And  he  swore  so  loud  he  bust  his  head, 
And  when  he  come  to  he  was  di-dum-dead, 
So  haul  the  bowline,  haul ! 

"Now   Renzo   went   a-clammin', 

That's  what  Renzo  did,  tiddy  hi ! 
His  boots  they  kep'  a-jammin', 

So  haul  the  bowline,  haul ! 
They  jammed  so  hard  that  he  gave  up  beat, 
And  went  back  home  in  his  stockin'  feet, 
And  the  woman  she  dressed  him  down  complete, 

So  haul  the  bowline,  haul ! 

"Now  Renzo  went  a-smeltin', 

That's  what  Renzo  did,  tiddy  hi! 
The  ice  was  just  a-meltin', 
So  haul  the  bowline,  haul! 
271 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


He  sot  clear'n  through,  and  he  froze  his  toes, 
And  a  foot-long  ice-kittle  hung  to  his  nose, 
And  he  says,  'Gol  darn  these  oil-skin  clo'es !' 
So  haul  the  bowline,  haul ! 

"Now  Renzo  caught  a  fever, 

That's  what  Renzo  caught,   tiddy  hi ! 
It  sot  him  all  a-queever, 

So  haul  the  bowline,  haul ! 
He  took  to  his  bed  and  the  doctor  come, 
And  give  him  a  dose  that  sure  was  some, 
For  it  h'isted  him  off  to  Kingdom  Come. 
So  haul  the  bowline,  haul !" 

"Oh!  thank  you!"  cried  Kitty.  "Thank  you  ever 
so  much!" 

"I  thank  you,"  replied  the  brown  man,  "for  listen- 
in'.  I  expect  you've  had  the  hardest  job  of  the  two, 
if  all  was  known." 

He  stepped  to  the  head  of  the  brown  horse,  felt  of 
the  bag  and  shook  his  head;  the  brown  horse  shook 
his. 

"Hossy,"  he  spoke  slowly,  in  a  singularly  cordial, 
pleasant  tone,  "you  ain't  eat  your  dinner !" 

The  horse  shook  his  head  again  and  sneezed. 

"You  no  call  to  sneeze !"  said  the  brown  man.  "It's 
good  feed,  and  you've  had  time  enough.  I  can't  wag 
your  jaws  for  you!  If  you  expect  that,  Hossy,  you're 
liable  to  be  disappointed  right  away !  Sam'll  be  in  forty 
conniptions  now  because  I'm  late!" 

He  took  off  the  nose-bag  and  folded  it  deliberately, 
the  brown  horse  continuing  to  sneeze  protest.  Look- 

272 


'The  Trivial  Round' 


ing  up,  he  met  Kitty's  interested  eyes  again,  and  his 
face  broke  into  a  delightful  smile. 

"He's  a  mite  choosy  to-day!"  he  said,  nodding  to- 
ward the  animal.  "Sometimes  he  forgets  he  isn't  a 
bein'.  I  expect  I  make  of  him  more'n  I  should,  but 
you  know  how  'tis.  That's  a  fine  hoss  you're  drivin', 
lady.  A  No.  i,  I  should  rate  him,  clipper-built  and 
copper — what  I  would  say,  he's  an  elegant  hoss.  Might 
I  take  the  liberty  of  offerin'  you  a  pep'mint,  Miss?  No 
offense,  I  hope ;  they're  just  out  o'  the  pan." 

The  two  talked  horse  happily  for  five  minutes;  then 
the  brown  man  climbed  somewhat  laboriously  into  his 
wagon,  and  with  "Good  day !  Pleased  to  have  met  up 
with  you!"  drove  off.  Kitty  sprang  down  and  ran 
into  the  shop. 

"Uncle  Ivory,"  she  cried,  "who  is  that  nice  man? 
Isn't  he  a  perfect  duck?  Do  tell  me  who  he  is!" 

Mr.  Cheeseman  had  watched  the  interview,  and  his 
eyes  were  twinkling. 

"As  to  bein'  a  duck,"  he  said  slowly,  "I  couldn't  say. 
I  never  see  him  without  his  stockin's.  Feet  may  be 
web,  for  all  I  know.  That's  Calvin  Parks,"  he  added 
in  a  different  tone.  "He's  what  I  might  call,  if  I  was 
put  to  it,  the  best  man  in  this  world.  If  he  wasn't  a 
gump,  he'd  be  an  angel.  He  peddles  candy.  I  sup- 
ply him  reg'lar,  and  I  tell  ye,  Kitty,  I  fairly  look  for- 
ward to  the  day  he  comes,  once  a  week." 

"I  should  think  you  would!  Where  does  he  live? 
Not  in  any  Cyrus,  surely?" 

"He  lives  over  yonder!"   Mr.  Cheeseman  nodded 

273 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


toward  a  point  of  the  compass.  "Drives  a  candy 
route,  and  looks  out  for  the  Sill  boys,  him  and  his  wife. 
Awful  nice  woman  she  is,  too.  You'd  like  Mary 
Parks.  Try  that  pineapple  ribbin;  I  expect  it's 
good!" 

At  this  point  Mrs.  Grieven  appeared,  lamenting. 
"Wesleys"  had  no  yellow  flannel,  and  it  was  a  living 
shame,  she  must  say,  if  she  was  to  go  without  a  flan- 
nel petticoat  at  her  time  of  life. 

"But  he  has  other  colors,  Mrs.  Grieven !"  Kitty  tried 
to  console  her.  "I  know  he  has  red  flannel,  for  I 
bought  some  the  other  day ;  and  white  he  has  too,  and 
I  think  gray." 

"I've  worn  yellow  flannel  for  seventy- seven  years," 
Mrs.  Grieven  replied ;  "and  I'm  not  going  to  change  at 
my  time  of  life.  Yellow  flannel  is  healin'  to  the  bones, 
and  keeps  off  rheumatism;  'tis  well  known,  and  Ori- 
son Wesley  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  call  himself  a 
general  store,  and  not  keep " 

"We'll  talk  about  it  as  we  drive!"  said  Kitty 
brightly.  "I  think  we  must  start  now,  Mrs.  Grieven. 
The  'ribbon'  is  delicious,  Mr.  Cheeseman ;  thank  you  so 
much!  Let  me  know  when  you  expect  Mr.  Parks 
again,  won't  you?" 

Uncle  Ivory  Cheeseman  watched  her  as  she  drove 
off. 

"Now  she'll  sup  yellow  flannel  all  the  way  to  North 
Cyrus!"  he  commented;  "and  take  it  as  if  'twas  but- 
ter scotch.  Them  kind  of  folks,  you  sympathize  with 
them,  and  they're  all  over  you  in  a  minute,  like  a  wet 

2/4 


'The  Trivial  Round' 


dog  on  a  cold  day.  It's  one  thing  to  be  friendly,  but, 
—well,  the  Bible  says  to  suffer  fools  gladly,  but  it 
don't  say  to  encourage  'em,  and  so  I  tell  Calvin!" 

He  turned,  and  gave  his  mind  to  the  molasses  pep- 
permints. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE    PAN-AMERICAN 

IF  little  has  been  said  hitherto  of  Miss  Ruby  Cad- 
die, it  is  not  because  she  was  not  an  Institution 
of  Cyrus ;  far  from  it !  She  was  even  more  than 
that,  though  that  would  be  enough  for  most  people; 
she  was  a  National  Institution ;  she  was  the  Pan-Amer- 
ican! Miss  Ruby  spent  her  days  in  a  box  measuring 
eight  feet  by  ten,  glazed  on  two  sides;  one  window 
giving  on  the  street,  the  other  on  a  small  and  dingy 
space  which  she  called  the  Outer  Office.  The  other 
two  sides  were  profusely  adorned  with  illuminated 
texts,  of  cheerful  and  admonitory  nature.  Miss 
Ruby's  visitors  were  advised  that  this  was  Her  Busy 
Day;  that  it  was  proper  to  Smile  While  You  Wait: 
that 

"When  Time  is  withdrawn, 
Will  Eternity  dawn!" 

etc.,  etc.  The  latter  sentiment  was  also  inscribed 
in  letters  of  gold  (decalcomania!)  on  a  manuscript 
book  which  lay  on  Miss  Ruby's  desk,  and  which  was 
further  labeled  "Timely  Texts  for  Troublous  Tele- 
grams." This  volume  (a  birthday  present  from  Miss 
Pearl,  who  had  spent  a  happy  year  in  its  compilation) 

276 


The  Pan-American 


was  a  constant  help  to  Miss  Ruby  in  discharging  the 
responsibilities  of  her  position,  of  which  she  was 
acutely  conscious.  The  electric  telegraph  was  to  her 
sensitive  nature  no  mere  affair  of  keys,  wires  and 
switches:  no,  indeed!  "It  is  a  Mighty  Force,"  the 
little  lady  was  wont  to  say,  shaking  her  flaxen  ringlets 
impressively,  "which  through  my  agency  raises  the 
heart  to  the  summit  of  joy  or  plunges  it  in  the  gulf  of 
despair." 

Holding  these  views,  Miss  Ruby  felt  it  her  duty  lo 
wing  the  joyful  message  with  special  shafts  of  cheer, 
and  to  prepare  the  way  for  the  sorrowful  one  with 
remarks  of  a  fortifying  nature.  She  invariably  be- 
gan, "Good  morning!  (or  afternoon,  as  the  case 
might  be).  This  is  the  Pan-American  Telegraph  Com- 
pany." Then  would  follow,  "Do  not  be  alarmed !  the 
news  is  of  a  cheering  nature."  And  then  the  listener 
would  learn  that  her  Aunt  Maria  was  coming  that  eve- 
ning by  the  8  130  train,  or  that  John  Henry  had  passed 
his  college  examinations.  But  were  the  message  one 
of  sorrowful  import,  Miss  Ruby  before  delivering  it 
would  open  the  manuscript  volume  and  select  an  ap- 
propriate sentence:  then  we  might  hear  "Trouble  is 
often  benefit  in  disguise.  Permit  me  to  express  my 
sympathy  before  delivering  the  following  message. 
'Your  Aunt  Maria  passed  away  last  night;  a  blessed 
release.' ' 

With  these  lofty  views  of  her  responsibilities,  it 
need  not  be  said  that  Miss  Ruby  was  the  soul  of  con- 
scientiousness in  regard  to  the  winged  words  of  which 
she  was  the  transmitter.  Not  even  to  Miss  Pearl,  her 

277 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


twin  sister  and  other  self,  would  she  breathe  a  whisper 
of  what  passed  over  the  wires.  Miss  Pearl,  equally 
conscientious,  respected  her  sister's  reserve.  If  ques- 
tioned by  some  thoughtless  neighbor,  she  would  say, 
"My  sister  has  her  business,  and  I  have  mine.  I 
should  no  more  think  of  asking  her  about  the  messages 
she  receives  than  she  would  ask  me  the  amount  of 
your  bank  deposit.  We  are  in  positions  of  Public 
Trust!" 

Once  only,  in  all  the  years  of  her  service,  was  Miss 
Ruby  tempted  to  break  her  rule  of  silence ;  that  was  on 
a  certain  June  evening,  not  long  after  the  events  nar- 
rated in  the  last  chapter.  Miss  Pearl  had  not  visited 
the  office  that  afternoon ;  it  was  "the  birthday  of  Sister 
and  Self,"  as  she  happily  announced  to  all  she  met  on 
her  way  home,  and  she  must  prepare  for  the  Treat. 
The  Treat  consisted  of  creamcakes,  bought  at  the  bak- 
ery, as  she  hastened  homeward ;  large  pale  yellow  shells 
of  brittle  crust,  irregularly  paneled  like  alligator-skin, 
filled  with  a  glutinous  semi-liquid  substance  of  irre- 
sistibly flowing  nature.  There  were  other  delicacies 
of  home  manufacture;  stuffed  eggs,  and  what  Miss 
Pearl  called  "lion's  potatoes,"  with  buttered  toast  and 
pickles;  but  the  creamcakes  were  the  real  Treat,  as 
they  had  been  ever  since  the  little  Twins  earned  their 
first  five  cents  apiece  by  picking  berries  for  Madam 
Flynt.  There  were  three  creamcakes;  two  apiece 
would  be  too  much;  on  the  other  hand,  one  was  not 
quite  enough;  so  the  third  was  cut  in  two,  with  as- 
tonishing results  in  the  way  of  swift  pursuit  and  skill- 
ful capture  ,(with  spoons)  of  the  glutinous  substance 

278 


The  Pan-Ameiican 


before  mentioned.  The  cakes  were  displayed  upon  a 
beautiful  old  platter  of  "flowed  blue,"  the  pride  of 
the  ladies'  hearts.  Have  I  said  too  much  about  the 
Treat  ?  I  always  thought  it  so  dear  and  funny !  and  I 
never  can  forget  how  I  chanced  in  on  an  errand  one 
Birthday  evening,  and  found  the  Twins  half  way 
through  their  whole  cakes.  They  held  them  in  their 
hands,  and  darted  from  edge  to  edge  as  the  custard 
threatened  to  overflow  here  or  there.  They  offered  me 
the  third  cake;  dear  little  ladies! 

On  the  evening  in  question,  Miss  Ruby  was  not  in 
her  usual  spirits.  She  praised  the  "lovely  supper," 
which  Sister  had  prepared,  and  joined  in  the  annual 
duet  of  admiration  for  and  joy  in  the  flowed  blue 
platter,  the  pink  lustre  jug,  and  the  sprigged  tea-set. 
The  sisters  found  it  convenient,  as  I  have  said,  to 
spend  their  winters  at  the  Mallow  House.  It  was 
economical,  Mr.  Mallow  being  more  than  liberal  in  his 
rates  for  "permanents" ;  it  was  also  social,  and  saved 
much  time  in  getting  to  and  from  their  business,  for 
their  cottage  was  quite  at  the  end  of  the  village;  but 
perhaps  the  happiest  day  of  the  year  for  the  sisters  was 
that  on  which  they  "got  back  to  their  dishes!" 

"For  there  is  nothing  like  your  own!"  said  Miss 
Pearl,  shaking  her  curls.  "Not  but  what  Mr.  Mal- 
low's pattern  is  handsome ;  it  is,  for  them  that  likes  a 
band.  But  when  you  have  grown  up  with  a  sprig, 
nothing  else  is  quite  the  same,  seems  as  though." 

Miss  Ruby,  as  I  say,  joined  in  the  duet,  but  not, 
her  observant  twin  thought,  with  her  customary  heart- 
iness. Neither  did  she  show  her  usual  keen  enjoy- 

279 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


ment  of  the  eggs  (scrambled  this  time,  with  crisp 
curls  of  bacon  surrounding  them)  and  the  lion's  po- 
tatoes. She  was  absent-minded  and  took  little  notice 
even  of  the  Sally  Lunns.  All  this  might  have  passed  as 
the  result  of  fatigue,  or  an  exceptionally  busy  day;  but 
when,  on  finishing  her  creamcake,  Miss  Ruby  refused, 
positively  refused,  her  half  of  the  odd  one,  Miss  Pearl 
spoke  with  conviction. 

"Sister,"  she  said,  "you  have  something  on  your 
mind;  do  not  deny  it!" 

"Sister,"  replied  Miss  Ruby,  "I  have.  Do  not  press 
me !  I  cannot  eat  another  morsel." 

A  troubled  silence  ensued.  The  table  was  cleared, 
the  dishes  washed  and  put  away,  but  not  to  the  cus- 
tomary accompaniment  of  cheerful  babble.  Miss  Ruby 
sighed  deeply  over  her  "wiper,"  one  of  a  set  presented 
by  Mr.  Mallow  as  a  birthday  gift.  Miss  Pearl,  the 
elder  by  half  an  hour  in  this  world,  and  with  all  her 
maternal  instinct  centred  in  her  sister,  yearned  to 
comfort  her;  but  the  bond  of  discretion  and  custom 
kept  her  silent.  Anything  that  Sister  felt  at  liberty 
to  communicate,  she  would ;  far  be  it  from  Miss  Pearl 
to  intrude  upon  the  sanctity  of  Office! 

Miss  Ruby  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence. 

"Let's  we  come  out  on  the  stoop!"  she  said.  (The 
Misses  Caddie  never  forgot  that  their  father,  the 
late  lamented  Cassius  M.  Caddie,  had  been  a  New  York 
Merchant.  They  were  only  ten  years  old  when  he 
died,  and  their  mother  brought  them  back  to  her 
native  Cyrus,  but  they  said  "stoop"  for  "porch"  and 

280 


The  Pan-American 


"aquascutum"    for    "waterproof,"    as   long   as   they 
lived.) 

The  sisters  went  out  on  the  porch — I  beg  their  par- 
don !  the  stoop ! — and  sat  down  on  a  bench  at  the  side. 
It  was  a  lovely  evening;  the  air  was  full  of  peace  and 
silence,  broken  now  and  then  by  a  low  call  from  some 
nesting  bird.  Miss  Ruby  sighed  again. 

"Sister,"  Miss  Pearl  spoke  timidly;  "could  you  feel 
to  free  your  mind?  You  know  that  anything  you 
might  say  would  be  sacred " 

"I  know  it  well!"  Miss  Ruby  touched  her  twin's 
shoulder  lightly;  it  was  in  the  nature  of  a  caress; 
they  had  not  been  brought  up  to  kiss. 

"I  will  own  this  much  to  you,  Sister,  that  never,  in 
the  course  of  my  professional  career,  have  I  been  so 
tempted  to  speak  as  I  am  this  night." 

She  paused;  Miss  Pearl  made  a  little  sound  expres- 
sive of  sympathy  and  concern. 

"It  is  not  only,"  Miss  Ruby  went  on,  "the  extra- 
ordinary nature  of  the  message  itself,  though — well, 
Sister,  you  really  nezfer  did! — but  it  is  the  feeling — " 
Miss  Ruby  glanced  around  her  in  the  dusk  and  low- 
ered her  voice — "the  feeling  that  the  sanctity  of  the 
Office  has  been  already  violated." 

"Sister  Ruby !  how  could " 

"I  feel  it  so  to  be!  this  much  I  can  say,  and  will. 
Pearlie,.the  message  was  for  Kitty  Ross,  from  Cal- 
ifornia. I  delivered  it  by  telephone  as  usual.  'Kitty,' 
I  said,  'do  not  be  alarmed;  the  message,  though  most 
unusual,  is  not  otherwise  than  cheerful,  if  correctly 
transmitted,  though  of  course  at  that  distance  it  is  im- 

281 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


possible  to  be  sure.'     Then  I  gave  her  the  words  of 
the  message " 

"Yes,  Sister!"  Miss  Pearl's  voice  was  tense  with 
eagerness. 

"The  words  of  the  message !"  Miss  Ruby  seemed  to 
be  holding  herself  in  forcible  restraint.  "I  then  asked 
her  if  it  was  clear,  and  she  made  answer  that  it  was. 
To  make  quite  sure,  I  asked  her  to  repeat  it,  and  she 
so  did.  Then  she  hung  up ;  and — Sister,  at  that  living 
moment  of  time,  some  one  else  hung  up  I  I  cannot  be 
deceived;"  as  Miss  Pearl  uttered  a  cry  of  amazement, 
"and  it  is  not  the  first  time  that  it  has  happened,  but  I 
am  resolved  it  shall  be  the  last.  That " 

"Good  evening,  girls!"  a  high-pitched  voice  broke 
in  on  Miss  Ruby's  low,  impressive  tones.  Mrs. 
Sharpe  appeared,  slightly  out  of  breath  as  usual. 

"I  thought  I'd  make  a  run  in,  and  wish  you  joy;  not 
that  birthdays  is  all  joy  in  this  world,  especially  when 
you're  on  in  years.  You're  gettin'  quite  gray,  ain't 
you?  Well,  Ruby,  ivliat  do  you  make  of  that  mes- 
sage?" 

Miss  Ruby  grew  rigid.  "To  what  do  you  allude, 
Sophia?"  she  asked. 

Mrs.  Sharpe  laughed,  a  high  excited  titter.  "That 
telephone!"  she  cried:  "it  is  the  beat!  I  keep  tellin' 
and  tellin'  Jonas  Chamberlain,  and  he  doesn't  do  a 
thing  about  it.  Everything  that  goes  to  Kitty  Ross's 
goes  right  through  my  house.  I  s'posed  you  knew,  of 
course.  It's  real  annoying;  I  should  think  they  would 
stop  it.  But — well,  if  that  is  so,  girls,  we  shall  see 
great  times  in  Cyrus,  what  say,  Pearlie?" 

282 


The  Pan-American 


"I  do  not  understand  you!"  Miss  Pearl  spoke 
stiffly. 

"What!"  Mrs.  Sharpe  bent  forward  eagerly,  trying 
through  the  twilight  to  scrutinize  the  features  of  the 
twins.  "You  don't  mean  to  say — you  don't  mean 
Ruby  hasn't  told  you?  Well!  It's  my  belief  that 
such  things  should  be  made  public.  The  idea!  is  this 
a  Republic,  I  ask  you,  or  a  Monarchy?  'Coming,  coach 
and  six.  Duke.'  Did  you  ever?  If  that  isn't  English 
Aristocracy  trying  to  lord  it  over " 

She  stopped.  The  twin  sisters  had  risen  to  their 
feet;  their  round  spectacles  glistened  through  the  dim 
twilight. 

"Sophia  Sharpe!"  Miss  Ruby  spoke  slowly,  her 
curls  nodding  emphasis.  "Sophia  Sharpe,  you  have 
tampered  with  the  sanctity  of  Public  Office.  I  forbid 
you  to  repeat  what  you  have  criminally — I  repeat, 
criminally  overheard !" 

"You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself !"  piped  Miss 
Pearl,  her  bird-like  voice  shrill  with  indignation.  "To 
cast  reflection  upon  Sister's  faithfulness  in  office!" 

"Oh!"  Mrs.  Sharpe's  tone  was  shriller  yet.  "I've 
come  here  to  be  instructed,  have  I  ?  By  two  old  maids, 
too,  who  have  never  had  any  encouragement  that  / 
know  of  to  change  their  state !  This  is  what  I  get  by 
coming  out  of  my  way  to  wish  you  joy  on  your  birth- 
day! a  precious  day  it  is!  so  important  to  everybody! 
One  sure  thing,  you've  had  enough  of  'em,  te  hee!  I 
guess  my  run-in  will  be  a  run-off,  though  you  are  so 
pleasant  and  hospitable,  I'm  sure !" 

"Do  not  darken  these  doors  again !"  said  Miss  Pearl. 
283 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


"Do  not  speak  to  me  in  the  street!"  said  Miss  Ruby. 
"The  acquaintance  is  at  an  end !" 

"I  thank  you  for  the  favor!"  the  visitor  flung  back 
over  her  departing  shoulder.  "Of  course  it's  been  a 
great  privilege  to  come  traipsing  out  here  to  the  other 
end  of  nowhere,  but  it's  one  I  can  dispense  with,  if  I 
try  hard;  and  as  for  speaking  to  two  poor  mildewed 
little  old  maids  that  stick  to  their  jobs  like  seaweed  to 
a  rock,  and  that's  kept  there  out  of  pity — out  of 
pity! " 

The  sound  of  the  closing  door  checked  her  flow  of 
eloquence;  she  departed. 

This  is  the  true  story  of  the  quarrel  between  the 
Misses  Caddie,  "two  ladies  as  highly  respected  in  our 
midst  for  their  ability  and  discretion  as  beloved  for 
their  many  endearing  social  qualities,"  as  Mr.  Jor- 
dano  took  occasion  to  say  in  the  next  Centinel,  and 
one  who  from  this  time  on  was  commonly  spoken  of 
as  "that  mean  Sophia  Sharpe!" 

But  the  deed  was  done.  Before  morning  all  Cyrus 
knew  that  Kitty  Ross  was  about  to  receive  a  visit  from 
an  English  Nobleman,  and  that :  A,  he  expected  to  be 
met  by  a  coach  and  six  horses,  or,  B,  that  his  arrival 
by  such  conveyance  was  to  be  anticipated. 

Before  considering  the  effect  of  this  news  upon 
Cyrus,  let  us  glance  for  a  moment  into  Madam  Flynt's 
parlor  on  the  evening  of  the  day  just  past.  Madam 
Flynt  was  receiving  a  visitor;  alone,  Miss  Croly  hav- 
ing gone  for  the  quiet  stroll  which  was  her  delight 
on  summer  evenings.  "With  Nature!"  the  good  lady 
would  explain.  "I  love  to  stroll  hand  in  hand  with 

284 


The  Pan-American 


Nature :  so  vast,  yet  so  benignant,  in  her  gentler  as- 
pects." She  recited  poetry  as  she  strolled,  finding 
it  most  beneficial. 

Madam  Flynt's  visitor  stood  by  the  door,  declining 
a  proffered  seat;  an  apron  thrown  over  her  head  an- 
nounced in  some  subtle  way  that  her  visit  was  one  of 
urgency;  she  spoke  in  low,  emphatic  tones. 

"Xo'm!  no!  she  wasn't  feverish  that  I  could  see;  I 
couldn't  feel  her  pult,  but  her  skin  felt  natural.  She 
acted  more  like  she  was  out  of  her  mind.  I  thought 
I'd  step  over!" 

"You  were  quite  right,  Sarepta!  Tell  me  again 
just  how  it  was,  will  you?  I  didn't  quite  take  it  in 
the  first  time." 

Evidently  nothing  loth,  Sarepta  spoke  as  follows : 

"It  was  five  o'clock,  or  thereabouts.  She  had  just 
come  in  from  the  stable ;  she  feeds  too  much  sugar  to 
them  bosses,  and  so  I  tell  John  Tucker,  but  of  course 
he  knew  all  about  hosses  before  they  was  created. 
The  telephone  rang  and  she  went.  It  was  Ruby  Cad- 
die's voice.  I  could  tell  by  the  cackle;  she  sounds  for 
all  the  world  like  our  Black  Spanish  hen;  of  course  I 
couldn't  hear  what  she  said.  'Yes/  says  Kitty.  'Yes, 
quite  clear!  Yes,  I  understand  entirely.'  Then  I 
judge  Ruby  asked  her  to  repeat  the  message,  for  she 
says,  kind  o'  singin'  it,  Madam  Flynt,  the  way  I  never 
heard  her  speak  before  since  she  could  speak :  'Comin', 
coach  and  six.  Duke!' 

"Well :  Kitty  covered  her  face  with  her  two  hands 
and  stood  there  a  spell :  if  you'll  excuse  me  mentionin' 
it,  as  if  she  was  fir  ay  in' !  Then  she  hung  up,  and 

28  q 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


swung  round,  and  see  me  standin'  there.  I  had  no 
idea  of  listening  you  understand,  Madam  Flynt.  I 
would  scorn  the  action.  I  was  just  passin'  through 
the  hall,  and  the  sound  of  her  voice — well,  it  was  so 
peculiar,  I  just  stopped  in  my  steps.  First  of  it  when 
she  looked  up,  she  was  white  as  my  apurn :  then,  all  in 
a  flash,  the  child's  face  was  like  she  was  afire,  so  to 
express  it;  her  eyes  were  shinin',  and  her  cheeks — 
well,  there!  I  expected  to  hear  the  flames  cracklin'. 
She  rushes  up  to  me  and  takes  my  two  hands.  'Dance, 
Sarepta!'  she  says,  wild  as  a  hawk.  'Dance!  you 
must  dance !'  and  she  drags  me  up  and  down  that  hall 
— you  know  the  stren'th  of  her  wrists,  drivin'  like  she 
does — till  the  breath  was  out  of  my  body;  and  all  the 
time  she  was  singin',  a  crazy  kind  of  jig  tune  she's 
ben  singin'  about  the  house  this  two  weeks  past  till  I 
thought  I  should  fly.  'Do  for  the  land's  sake,'  I'd 
say,  'sing  something  that  has  some  sense  to  it!'  It 
don't  begin  nor  end  anywhere,  goes  round  and  round 
like  a  cat's  cradle — well,  it's  crazy,  that's  all  there  is 
to  it!  She  sang  and  danced  till  her  breath  gave  out; 
I  was  past  speech  or  cry  by  that  time.  Then  she 
throws  her  arms  round  me  and  hugs  me  till — well,  I 
hadn't  any  breath,  but  if  I  had,  I  wouldn't  of,  if  you 
understand  what  I  mean:  and  then  off  she  flings  out 
the  back  door,  and  I  heard  her  routin'  round  in  the 
stable,  and  next  thing  out  she  comes  with  Pilot  in  the 
light  wagon  and  off  they  go  down  the  ro'd  like  Job's 
cat  after  a  fish.  That  was  two  hours  ago,  and  she 

ain't  come  back  yet.     I  thought  I'd  step  over " 

"Where  is  John  Tucker?"  asked  Madam  Flynt. 
286 


The  Pan-American 


"Home  sick,  with  the  rheumatism.  If  he'd  ben 
there,  I  don't  know  as  I  need  to  have  troubled  you ;  not 
that  he  has  much  sense,  but  still  he  has  some.  Hark ! 
there!  I  do  believe — yes'm,  there  she  is;  just  turnin' 
into  the  yard.  Thanks  be !  I  must  hasten  back." 

"You  are  a  good  soul,  Sarepta  Darwin!"  Madam 
Flynt  spoke  with  feeling.  "You  were  very  right  to 
come  over.  Get  Kitty  to  come  in  and  see  me  in  the 
morning,  will  you?  Make  some  errand,  so  she  won't 
know " 

"Yes'm,  I  will!  I'll  borry  an  egg  or  something; 
thank  you,  Madam  Flynt!  Good-night!" 

Kitty,  dancing  into  the  kitchen  half  an  hour  later, 
found  a  grim  figure  sitting  bolt  upright,  reading  a  re- 
ligious paper  of  austere  appearance.  Her  gay  "Sup- 
per, please,  Sarepta !"  was  rewarded  with  the  infor- 
mation that  there  was  no  supper  that  Sarepta  knew 
of.  Supper  was  at  six  o'clock;  if  folks  were  here, 
they'd  get  it;  if  they  preferred  to  get  their  victuals 
elsewhere,  it  was  no  concern  of  hers  that  she  knew 
of.  Kitty  opened  wide  eyes. 

"Oh!  Excuse  me  for  living!"  she  said.  "Am  I  so 
very  late?  The  moonlight  is  so  heavenly,  Sarepta,  I 
think  I  was  very  good  to  come  in  at  all ;  and  of  course 
I  had  to  see  to  those  Lambs  before  I  had  my  own 
supper.  John  Tucker  wanted  to  send  Timmy  over, 
but  I  wouldn't  let  him ;  I  love  to  put  them  to  bed  once 
in  a  while.  But  no  matter,  Sarepta.  I'll  find  a 
doughnut  and  some  milk ;  don't  bother.  I'm  not  really 
hungry !" 

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A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


Kitty's  hand  was  on  the  buttery  door  when  Sarepta 
intervened  with  a  truly  awful  aspect. 

"When  you  wish  me  to  go,  Kitty  Ross,  you  can  say 
so  and  I  will.  While  I  stay,  I  calc'late  to  attend  to 
things  in  this  kitchen.  You  go  into  the  sittin'-room 
and  I'll  bring  you  a  tray." 

The  tray,  when  brought,  displayed  a  most  tempting 
little  meal :  creamed  chicken,  buttered  scones,  cocoa 
and  strawberry  jam ;  but  for  once  Kitty  seemed  hardly 
conscious  of  the  good  things.  She  looked  up  as  if  in 
a  dream,  her  eyes  soft  and  dewy. 

"Are  you  very  cross,  Sarepta?"  she  asked.  "I'm 
sorry  I  was  late." 

"Humph !"  Sarepta  apparently  extremely  cross,  and 
busy  setting  down  the  tray. 

"Don't  you  love  me?"  asked  the  girl,  as  she  had 
been  used  to  ask  when  she  was  six  and  wanted  an  extra 
cooky.  No  answer  being  returned,  Kitty  came  out  of 
her  dream,  her  own  alert,  thoughtful  self ;  looked  and 
saw  the  grim  lips  quivering,  the  workworn  hands  trem- 
bling as  they  hovered  about  the  tray. 

"Sarepta!"  Kitty  sprang  up,  threw  her  arms  round 
the  neck  of  her  faithful  friend,  and  whispered  three 
words  in  her  ear. 

"So  you  see !"  she  said. 

Sarepta  Darwin  threw  her  apron  over  her  head  and 
departed,  to  hurry  up  to  her  room  and  lock  her  door. 
For  this  time,  Sarepta  was  crying,  and  no  one  must 
ever  know  it.  The  idea! 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  TRIBULATIONS  OF  CYRUS 
r-m-~*  J 

j^HE  matter  came  up  at  Bygoods',  next  morning, 
and  was  discussed  with  due  gravity  and  de- 
corum :  present,  Miss  Almeria  behind  the  coun- 
ter, Messrs.  Mallow  and  Jordano  in  front  of  it;  Mr. 
Bygood  in  his  wheel-chair,  enjoying  a  little  Society  in 
the  front  shop,  before  retiring  to  the  slumbrous  calm 
of  the  back.  To  these  were  soon  added  the  Messrs. 
Jebus,  who  had  been  alarmed  by  a  sudden  incursion  of 
Sharpes  the  night  before,  heralding  the  proximate 
over-running  of  Cyrus  by  dissolute  nobles  "cracking 
their  whips  round  our  ears  and  driving  their  wheels 
over  our  bodies  if  something  isn't  done  about  it!" 

Mr.  Josiah,  in  anxious  squeaks,  wanted  to  know 
what  all  this  meant;  hey?  He  was  all  upset;  he  didn't 
know  as  he  could  match  his  silks,  this  kind  of  thing 
going  on ;  his  hand  fairly  shook.  They  claimed  Ruby 
Caddie  had  taken  to  her  bed :  was  that  so  ? 

"It  is  so!"  Miss  Almeria  inclined  her  head  gravely. 
"Ruby  is  quite  prostrated.  My  sister  is  with  her, 
Pearl,  of  course,  being  unable  to  leave  the  Bank.  It 
is  very  unfortunate,  Mr.  Jebus.  The  sanctity  of  the 
Office  has  been  violated,  you  see,  and  Ruby  feels  it 

289 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


keenly.  It  was  not  in  any  way  her  fault:  an  unpar- 
donable indiscretion " 

"What  I  say  is,"  Mr.  Mallow  broke  in, — "excuse 
me  for  interrupting  Miss  Bygood;  what  I  say  is,  that 
woman  ought  to  be  taken  and  ducked,  sir!  ducked  in 
the  hoss-pond  for  a  common  cormorant!  She  is  a 
dirigo,  that's  what  she  is!  a  dirigo,  sir!"  (Mr.  Mallow 
meant  termagant  and  virago,  but  it  did  not  matter; 
everybody  understood. ) 

"'Doubtless!  doubtless!"  Mr.  Jordano  waved  his 
note-book  anxiously.  "Most  ill-judged!  most  unfor- 
tunate-tate-tate !  But  as  to  the — if  I  may  borrow  a 
legal  expression,  the  corpus  delicti;  as  to  the  alleged 
message  itself.  Is  that,  does  Miss  Bygood  consider, 
correctly  reported?  No  indiscreeto,  I  beg  to  assure 
you!  But  if  it  has  been  made  public — there  seem  to 
be  two  reports  current,  which  in  a  measure  conflict- 
tict-tict  Is  it  permissible  to  ask  which  is  the  correct 
— a — version  ?" 

Miss  Almeria  pondered  a  moment,  conscious  that 
all  eyes  were  fixed  eagerly  upon  her. 

"As  the  message  has  been  made  public,"  she  said 
at  last,  "though  feloniously  so,  feloniously  so,  I  must 
consider "  she  bowed  to  a  general  murmur  of  as- 
sent from  the  company — "it  is  perhaps  best  to  be  sure 
that  it  is  correctly  given.  The  words  of  the  message 
were  these:  'Coming;  coach  and  six:  Duke.'  So 
much  our  friend,  Miss  Caddie,  admits.  As  to  the 
precise  meaning  of  the  message,  she  declines  to  express 
an  opinion ;  very  properly,  in  my  judgment." 

"Oh,  quite  so!  quite  so!"  murmured  Mr.  Jordano. 
290 


The  Tribulations  of  Cyrus 


"Very  discreeto,  I  am  sure.  Hers  not  to  reason  why, 
hers  but  to  do  and — which  we  sincerely  hope  that 
estimable  lady  will  refrain  from — "  Mr.  Jordano  be- 
came involved,  and  flourished  the  note-book  nervously. 

"Question  is,  what  in  hemp  does  it  mean?"  broke 
in  Mr.  Mallow  again.  "I  beg  you'll  excuse  me,  Miss 
Bygood ;  that  darned  tattle-tale  has  got  me  all  worked 
up;  but  I  want  to  get  to  the  bottom  of  this.  Does  it 
mean  that  the  feller  is  comin'  that  way,  drivin'  six 
hosses — three  pair,  that  would  be,  I  presume — he 
wouldn't  drive  that  number  tantrum,  most  likely — 
because  if  it  does,  I'd  have  to  get  extry  help,  you  see, 
Miss  Almery.  Or  would  he  bring  his  own  help  with 
him,  think?  A  Dook  is  next  to  a  king,  isn't  he?  Did 
you  ever  see  a  Dook,  Mr.  Bygood  ?" 

Mr.  Bygood,  as  was  well  known,  had  made  sev- 
eral voyages  in  his  early  manhood,  in  the  mystic  char- 
acter of  ship's  husband,  and  had  visited  Foreign  Parts. 
All  eyes  turned  on  the  old  gentleman,  who  beamed 
gently  through  his  spectacles.  No,  he  had  never  seen 
a  duke;  that  is,  never  in  life,  sir!  He  had  seen  the 
statue  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  in  Hyde  Park, 
London,  England ;  it  was  considered  very  fine,  he  be- 
lieved :  very  fine.  A  work  of  art,  sir! 

Mr.  Jason  Jebus,  whose  contribution  to  the  conver- 
sation had  been  hitherto  a  running  commentary  of 
squeaks,  now  became  articulate. 

"I  was  in  to  Abram  Hanks's  just  now  to  get  me 
some  lahstic  for  my  boots —  '  (have  I  said  that  the 
partners  wore  elastic-sided  Congress  boots?  They 
did;  the  difference  between  right  and  left  was  less 

291 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


obvious  in  these  than  in  other  boots,  and  Mr.  Jason 
always  wore  out  Mr.  Josiah's  left  boots,  which  did 
not  fit  the  club  foot) — "and  he  claimed  the — individual 
— was  comin'  by  rail,  and  wanted  some  one  should 
meet  him  at  the  deepo  with  a  coach  and  six  horses. 
Cissy  Sharpe  told  him,  he  said." 

"Good  reason  for  believin'  'tain't  so!"  snorted  Mr. 
Mallow. 

"Abram  didn't  let  on  he  felt  anyways  sure  of  it," 
Mr.  Jason  continued.  "He  thought  mebbe  he'd  dress 
up  his  window  a  mite  on  the  chance — strangers,  you 
know — and  I  didn't  know  but  what  I  would.  Like 
to  have  'em  see  a  tasty  window,  if  they  should  come. 
Like  to  have  Cyrus  stores  make  as  good  appearance 
as  any.  Josiah  has  a  handsome  centrepiece  just 
com " 

"Now!  now!"  Mr.  Josiah  put  in  testily.  "Don't 
you  go  runnin'  away  with  no  notions,  Jason !  I  ain't 
said  I  was  willin'  to  put  that  piece  in  the  winder,  and 
I  don't  know  as  I  am.  There's  consid'able  blue  in  it, 
and  blue  won't  stand  a  winder  light,  it  perishes  right 
out.  Come  on!  we  must  be  goin'.  Give  you  good 
mornin',  neighbors!" 

Mr.  Josiah  stumped  off,  Mr.  Jason  twittering  at  his 
heels.  Mr.  Mallow  looked  after  them  with  a  tolerant 
smile. 

"Now  Jason  will  put  in  the  day,"  he  said,  "publishin' 
up  that  winder.  Start  him  and  Abram  Hanks,  and 
we  shall  have  the  whole  Street  dandied  up  like  Decora- 
tion Day.  I  guess  the  Mallow  House  will  stay  pretty 
much  as  it  is,  Dook  or  no  Dook."  (Oh,  Mr.  Mallow! 

292 


The  Tribulations  of  Cyrus 


Mr.  Mallow!  as  if  Hannah  Sullivan  were  not  at  work 
at  this  moment  "cleaning"  your  spotless  paint,  while 
Billy  polishes  the  shining  silver!)  "I  guess  what  suits 
the  Boarders'll  do  for  him,  what  say?" 

"Indeed,  yes,  Mr.  Mallow!"  Miss  Almeria  cast  a 
kind  glance  on  "the  Mine  Host."  "The  Mallow  House 
is  always  the  perfection  of  order  and  taste.  You 
would  put  him  in  the  Bird  of  Paradise  Room,  I  pre- 
sume ?" 

"Yes'm;  that  is,  I  think  so!"  Mr.  Mallow's  brow 
was  thoughtful.  "It's  the  largest  room,  and  the  hand- 
somest, most  think.  Me  and  Billy  was  lookin'  things 
over  this  mornin'.  He  didn't  know  but  the  Castle 
Room  would  be  the  most  suitable;"  (the  Mallow 
House  rooms  were  named  from  the  patterns  of  their 
wall-paper)  "you  know  I  put  a  resource  in  there  last 
fall,  kind  o'  balcove  like,  and  he  thought  set  the  bed 
inside  that,  'twould  have  the  look  of  two  rooms;  but 
I  don't  know!  Nor  I  don't  know  as  we've  got  this 
matter  rightly  settled,"  he  added  with  a  laugh,  "which 
way  this  feller  is  comin',  if  he  is  comin'.  It  may  be 
all  folderido,  some  fool  kid  monkeyin'  with  the  tele- 
graph, thinkin'  he's  all-fired  smart.  How  'bout  that, 
Very?" 

Mr.  Jordano,  on  reflection,  thought  that  improbable. 
The  message  was  not  such  as  a  boy  would  be  likely  to 
invent:  besides,  the  distance — he  understood  Cali- 
fornia was  the  source 

At  this  point  Mr.  Bygood,  who  had  been  dozing  in 
his  chair,  looked  up.  "What  does  Kitty  say?"  he 
asked  calmly. 

293 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


The  others  looked  at  each  other. 

"Dear  Father,"  said  Miss  Almeria  gently;  "under 
all  the  circumstances,  it  would  be  hardly  suitable,  I 
fear,  to " 

Mr.  Mallow  colored  high  and  cleared  his  throat 
nervously.  "That's  right!"  he  said.  "That's  right, 
Miss  Bygood.  I — I  met  Kitty  this  mornin',  on  my 
way  down :  I  forgot  to  mention  it.  I  didn't  say  any- 
thing, you  understand :  I  only  just  threw  it  off,  jokin' 
like.  'Well,  Kitty,'  I  says.  'How's  the  British  this 
mornin'?'  She  looks  at  me,  Doctor  all  over;  aston- 
ishin'  the  way  she'll  call  him  up  sometimes.  'Pretty 
well,  Mr.  Mallow,'  she  says.  'As  well  as  can  be  ex- 
pected after  Bunker  Hill,'  she  says.  We  shan't  get 
anything  out  of  Kitty." 

It  was  finally  decided,  Miss  Almeria  voicing  the 
general  opinion,  that  the  less  said  about  the  momen- 
tous telegram  the  better.  The  dignity  of  Cyrus  would 
be  compromised  by  taking  any  notice  of  tidings  re- 
ceived in  a  manner  "equally  irregular  and  reprehensi- 
ble." Miss  Almeria  bent  her  handsome  head  at  its 
severest  angle. 

"I  am  confident,  dear  friends,"  she  concluded,  "that 
silence  is  the  only — shall  I  say  attitude? — worthy  of 
Cyrus  in  this  emergency." 

"Oh,  quite  so!  quite  so!"  murmured  Mr.  Jordano 
with  forlorn  nobility.  "You  point  us  the  skyward 
way,  Miss  Almeria,  as  ever!" 

"That's  right!"  said  Mr.  Mallow.  "Silence  and 
Cyrus:  both  begin  with  C.  Guess  we  can  get  along, 
even  if  he  don't  come  at  all,  what  say?  Shall  we  tod- 

294 


The  Tribulations  of  Cyrus 


die,   Very?     Good   mornin',    Mr.    Bygood!   mornin', 
Miss  Bygood,  and  thank  you  kindly !" 

John  Tucker  was  perhaps  the  only  person  in  Cyrus 
who  knew  nothing  of  the  fateful  telegram.  He  was 
having  a  suffering  time,  poor  John,  with  rheumatism. 
He  had  struggled  valiantly  against  it  through  the  long 
winter  and  the  perilous  combination  of  extremes  that 
we  call  spring  in  New  England.  He  had  managed  to 
keep  the  knowledge  of  his  ailment  from  Kitty,  and 
had  gone  to  the  station  in  all  weathers,  steadfastly 
refusing  to  allow  her  to  meet  "them  pesky  trains." 
Now,  however,  when  "the  season  of  snows  and  sins" 
was  over,  and  summer  was  here  with  her  lap  full  of 
roses,  the  enemy  clutched  John  Tucker  in  an  iron 
grip  and  held  him  fast.  He  struggled  out  every  day, 
and  crept  over  to  Ross  House,  where  he  sat,  in  stable 
or  harness  room,  directing  his  son  Tim,  who  did  his 
fourteen-year-old  best,  but  found  "Pa"  hard  to  satisfy. 
Tim  felt  fully  equal  to  driving  Old  Crummies,  or  even 
Dan,  to  meet  the  trains,  but  was  bidden  briefly  to  "shut 
up"  when  he  volunteered  to  do  so.  Kitty  was  all 
eagerness  to  drive  herself,  but  John's  face  of  misery 
at  the  suggestion  smote  her  heart,  and  she  engaged 
Amos  Barrell,  the  blacksmith's  stalwart  son,  to  per- 
form this  duty,  and  to  help  in  the  stable  when  more 
help  was  needed.  Amos  was  usually  a  silent  youth, 
with  little  more  to  say  than  "Yep"  and  "Nope"  and 
"That  so?"  but  about  this  time  he  became  conversa- 
tional, not  to  say  inquisitive.  He  wanted  to  know  if 
they  was  any  coaches  in  town.  What  was  that  big 
wagon  there  all  kivered  up?  Was  that  a  coach? 

295 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


Warn't?  Well,  he  didn't  hardly  think — some  said 
there  was  a  coach  in  the  stable  out  to  Gaylords'.  Was 
it  sold,  think,  or  was  it  there  yet?  Gramp  said  there 
used  to  be  one  to  the  Mailer  House  when  he  was  a 
boy,  but  he  never  heard  of  their  puttin'  more'n  four 
hosses  to  it,  Gramp  said.  Gramp  allowed  mebbe — 

"Shut  up!"  said  John  Tucker.  "Know  what  that 
means?" 

Visitors  came  to  the  harness  room,  as  usual;  more 
than  usual,  in  fact.  John  Tucker,  his  bones  like  red- 
hot  iron  within  him,  thought  they  came  like  grass- 
hoppers in  a  hayfield.  Orison  Wesley  sidled  in,  lank 
and  lantern-jawed;  sat  upon  a  keg  and  sympathized 
with  John's  sufferings.  He  knew  what  'twas ;  ketched 
you  in  the  small  of  your  back — gorry !  he  guessed  he'd 
used  a  case  of  Carter's  Chlorodyne  Liniment  last  win- 
ter. The  woman  just  slabbed  it  on;  slabbed  it  on, 
sir.  That  was  right;  you  wanted  something  that 
s'arched  your  vitals. 

"How  many  hosses  you  drivin'  now,  Tucker?" 

"I  ain't  drivin'  none!"  growled  John,  one  eye  on 
the  clock. 

"That's  right!  but  I  mean  when  you  have  your 
health?  Lemme  see!  You've  got  three  here,  ain't 
you?" 

John  grunted  assent. 

"Drive  'em  single  mostly,  do  ye?  Ever  hitch  'em 
up  together?" 

"What  ye  mean?  Three  hosses  together?  No! 
di3  ever  you  go  up  to  the  Asylum  ?  Well,  I  wouldn't 
if  I  was  you;  they  mightn't  let  you  out  again," 

296 


The  Tribulations  of  Cyrus 


Mr.  Wesley  swayed  to  and  fro  on  the  keg,  chuck- 
ling slowly.  He  could  make  allowances  for  a  man's 
being  a  mite  crotchetty  with  the  rheumatiz.  Besides, 
he  had  not  got  the  information  he  sought. 

"Ever  drive  more  than  three?"  he  droned  on. 
"Ever  drive  six  hosses,  Tucker?" 

John  Tucker  rose  slowly  and  painfully,  creaking  in 
every  joint. 

"I've  drove  six  jackasses,"  he  said.  "I  drove  'em 
out  of  this  stable.  S'pose  you  foller  'em,  Orison,  and 
see  where  they've  got  to  by  this  time !  I'm  goin'  home 
to  supper." 

At  the  "Chantery,"  great  excitement  prevailed.  The 
girls  were  all  a-twitter,  speculating  on  the  probable 
age  of  the  expected  nobleman,  his  appearance — ("He 
ought  to  be  dark,  of  course,  to  contrast;  and  dark  is 

so  much  more  aristo ."     "My  dear!  how  absurd! 

every  duke  I  ever  read  of  was  pure  Saxon,  with  blue 
or  gray  eyes  and  fair  hair  swept  back  from  a  mar- 
ble— ") — the  probable  date  of  his  advent. 

"My  dear!  he  may  be  here  to-morrow;  just  think! 
what  shall  we  say  to  him?  Will  he  expect  us  to 
curtsey,  do  you  suppose?" 

Thus  Zephine,  the  least  sensible  of  the  girls. 

"Well,  we  won't!"  said  Nelly  stoutly.  Nelly  was 
engaged  to  Joe  Myers  now,  and  was  not  afraid  of  all 
the  Dukes  in  creation.  "I'll  tell  you  what,  girls!  Kitty 
is  coming  to  supper  to-night :  I  asked  her  this  morning. 
Mother,  you  said  there  would  be  plenty,  didn't  you? 
We'll  ask  her  right  out.  I'm  sure  we  know  her  well 
enough !" 

297 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


"Ask  what?"  Mr.  Chanter  spoke  abruptly,  looking 
up  from  his  Congregationalist.  That  was  the  most 
singular  thing  about  Pa;  you  never  could  tell  when 
he  wouldn't  hear,  though  generally  you  might  discuss 
the  most  thrilling  events  in  the  (Cyrus)  world  with- 
out his  taking  the  slightest  notice. 

"Ask  what?"  repeated  the  Reverend  Timothy. 

"Lor,  Pa!  how  you  startled  us!  Ask  Kitty  about 
this  duke,  or  whatever  he  is,  who  is  coming  to  see  her. 
She  is  coming  to  supper  to-night,  and  Nelly  is  going 
to  ask  her  all  about  him,  right  straight  out,  and  about 
the  coach  and  six,  and  all." 

"Nelly  will  do  nothing  of  the  sort."  Mr.  Chanter 
spoke  with  calm  decision.  "Kitty  knows  her  own  af- 
fairs; if  she  has  anything  to  tell  us,  she  will;  if  not, 
it  is  none  of  our  business." 

"Quite  right!"  nodded  Mrs.  Chanter  over  her  bas- 
ket. "Suppose  we  finish  the  stockings,  girls!  you 
will  each  want  a  whole  pair  to  receive  the  Duke  in,  you 
know;  perhaps  Pa  will  read  us  a  chapter  of  Tick- 
wick'  while  we  work." 

What  was  to  be  done  with  parents  like  these?  "Wax 
nine  times  out  of  ten,"  whispered  Zephine  to  Lina, 
"and  the  tenth  time  cast  iron  with  a  twinkle!" 

Kitty  came  to  supper,  looking  so  lovely  that  even 
these  friends,  who  knew  and  loved  her  beauty  so  well, 
marveled  at  it.  The  girls  worshiped  openly;  Rod- 
ney and  Aristides  heaved  furtive  sighs  and  cast  shy 
glances  over  their  cocoa-cups.  The  elders  noticed  with 
silent  joy  that  a  little  pallor,  a  little  drawn  look  about 
the  sweet  mouth,  a  little  dark  line  under  the  eyes, 

298 


The  Tribulations  of  Cyrus 


that  had  troubled  their  kind  hearts,  was  gone  from 
the  girl's  face.  She  bloomed  like  one  of  her  own  June 
roses ;  her  eyes  shot  gay  sparkles ;  her  laughter  sounded 
every  note  of  joyous  mirth — but  alas!  for  the  girls! 
she  said  no  word  of  dukes  or  coaches.  At  parting 
she  kissed  Mrs.  Chanter  with  special  warmth,  and 
lingered  a  moment  at  the  door  looking  at  her  host  with 
shining  eyes.  "Would  you  mind  if  I  kissed  you,  too?" 
she  asked :  and  Mr.  Chanter  went  back  to  his  books 
with  blurred  spectacles  and  a  lump  in  his  throat.  But 
Kitty  made  Rodney,  her  proud  escort,  race  her  all  the 
way  home,  and  honestly,  he  had  no  idea  a  girl  could 
sprint  like  that. 

Madam  Flynt?  That  lady  kept  her  own  counsel 
in  these  days.  She  refused  a  visit  from  Mrs.  Sharpe, 
sending  word  that  she  was  specially  engaged.  So 
she  was,  up  in  her  room,  looking  over  her  jewel- 
case,  selecting  certain  emeralds,  and  being  very  short 
with  Miss  Croly,  who  deemed  it  her  duty  to  touch 
lightly  on  the  unwisdom  (she  did  not  say  folly:  the 
word  would  be  discourteous!)  of  persons  in  later  life 
wearing  other  than  the  simpler  forms  of  jewelry.  A 
chaste  gold  brooch,  now 

It  was  intimated  that  when  the  lady's  opinion  was 
desired  it  would  be  asked  for,  and  the  friends  parted 
— for  half  an  hour. 

Mrs.  Sharpe,  failing  of  entrance  at  Madam  Flynt's, 
rang  at  the  door  of  Ross  House ;  continued  to  ring  at 
intervals,  for  fifteen  minutes,  Kitty  being  out;  finally 
went  round  to  the  back  door  and  knocked.  The  door 

299 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


was  opened  three  inches  by  Sarepta,  a  figure  of  gran- 
ite. 

"Oh,  how  do  you  do,  Sarepta?"  thus  Mrs.  Sharpe 
in  honeyed  tones.  "I  think  the  front  door  bell  must 
be  out  of  order.  I've  been  ringing  and  ringing !  Kitty 
at  home  ?" 

Kitty  out :  not  likely  to  return  before  night.  Sarepta 
attempted  to  close  the  door,  but  the  visitor  slipped  an 
adroit  foot  into  the  opening. 

"How  well  you're  looking,  Sarepta!  I  declare  I 
think  I  must  come  in  and  make  you  a  little  visit,  he! 
he!" 

She  tried  to  push  the  door,  wider,  but  it  was  held  in 
an  iron  grip;  Sarepta,  apparently,  had  not  heard  her 
remark. 

"Ahem !"  Mrs.  Sharpe  tried  a  new  tack.  "Expect- 
ing visitors,  are  you,  Sarepta?" 

"Not  as  I  know  of !" 

"Oh,  I  understand!  a  visitor,  I  should  have  said. 
It's  always  well  to  be  exact.  Well,  all  I  called  for  was 
to  say,  if  you  wanted  to  borrow  anything,  silver  or 
the  like  of  that,  I  hope  you'll  come  to  me,  Sarepta. 
Mr.  Sharpe  was  part  English,  you  know;  his  grand- 
father came  from  the  Provinces,  and  of  course  I'm 
acquainted  with  English  ways.  Perhaps  I'd  better 
come  in  and  talk  it  over " 

"Excuse  me!  My  bread  is  in  the  oven!"  said 
Sarepta  Darwin. 

The  door  closed  on  a  shriek. 

"I  scrouged  her  toe  good!"  Sarepta  told  Madam 

300 


The  Tribulations  of  Cyrus 


Flynt  that  night.  "She  bellered  right  out,  and  I  was 
glad." 

Perhaps  the  most  complete  summing  up  of  the  situa- 
tion was  given  that  evening  by  Miss  Almeria  Bygood 
as  she  sat  with  her  sister  over  nine  o'clock  supper, 
that  pleasant  meal  that  still  lingers  in  blessed  Cyrus, 
where  we  dine  at  half -past  twelve  and  sup  at  five  or 
six.  Molly  had  brought  in  the  tray  and  drawn  up 
the  little  round  table  between  the  two  ladies  as  they 
sat  with  their  feet  on  the  embroidered  fender-stool. 
(There  was  no  fire,  but  they  always  sat  there  in  the 
evening.)  Pretty  Molly,  crisp  and  trim  in  her  light 
print  dress !  Miss  Bygoods  did  not  hold  with  putting 
maids  in  black,  especially  young  maids.  "Why  should 
they  be  made  to  ape  the  semblance  of  sorrow?"  Miss 
Almeria  asked  with  dignity.  "We  trust  our  service  is 
not  so  arduous  as  to  cause  them  the  reality !" 

They  were  talking  of  the  duke,  of  course,  over  their 
cocoa  and  sponge  drops:  who,  save  Kitty  and  John 
Tucker,  talked  of  anything  else  in  this  week  of  the 
Tribulations  of  Cyrus?  They  wondered,  hoped, 
feared,  wondered  again.  Would  they  lose  their  Kitty, 
the  rose  and  jewel  of  their  little  world?  Would  this 
great  nobleman  carry  her  off,  if  not  on  his  horse 
(Miss  Egeria  knew  nothing  of  strong  men  from  the 
north!)  at  least  in  his  coach  and  six?  Thus  Miss 
Egeria,  trembling,  romantic. 

Surely  not,  Miss  Almeria  replied  gravely.  A  sense 
of  propriety  would  assuredly  not  be  wanting  in  a  per- 
son of  such  lofty  position.  At  the  same  time,  it  was 

301 


A  Daughter  o/  Jehu 


most  unfortunate  that  Johanna  and  Edward  were  ab- 
sent. 

"Most  unfortunate!"  Miss  Egeria  sighed.  "Not 
only  for  the — the  suitability  of  it,  of  course,  in  every 
way,  but — well.  Sister,  Johanna  has  such  an  air,  such 
knowledge  of  the  world;  and  Edward  is  such  an  ele- 
gant man!  I  am  sure  the  duke  would  not  anywhere 
meet  finer  manners,  and  we  would  wish  him  to  see 
Cyrus  at  its  best!" 

"Dear  Sister!"  Miss  Almeria  laid  her  slender  hand, 
with  its  antique  but  costly  rings,  gently  on  Miss 
Egeria's  cashmere  sleeve;  "have  no  fears  on  that 
score!  there  at  least,  if  nowhere  else,  we  may  feel 
secure.  In  matters  of  courtesy  and  breeding — with 

one  or  two  exceptions "  Miss  Almeria  closed  her 

eyes ;  "Cyrus  is  always  at  its  best  K' 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  DUKE  OF  LEE 

DURING  the  week  that  followed  Cyrus  was 
deeply  impressed  by  the  importance  of  fresh 
air  and  exercise.  It  walked  abroad,  at  all 
hours  of  the  day.  Young  Cyrus  scoured  the  six  roads 
that  centred  in  the  happy  village,  hung  over  fences, 
scanning  the  countryside,  loitered  about  the  station 
at  train  time.  Mature  Cyrus  was  genteelly  busy  in 
its  front  garden,  tying  up  rose-bushes  and  removing 
(in  gloves!)  rose-beetles.  Young  and  old  alike  found 
much  business  to  be  done  in  the  Street.  Abram  Hanks 
drove  a  brisk  trade  in  spools  of  thread  and  other  small 
wares.  Now  and  then  something  unusual  was  asked 
for,  as  when  Nelly  Chanter  wanted  some  white  mull, 
for  a  purpose  unspecified. 

"No,  I  ain't  got  any!"  Mr.  Hanks's  tone  expressed 
injury.  "I  had  some,  but  them  folks  that  was  at  the 
hotel  last  summer  bought  it  all  out  on  me!" 

There  was  a  positive  run  on  Cheeseman's  candy 
store ;  Uncle  Ivory  was  almost  annoyed  by  it.  "Look 
at  here,  Sty !"  he  said  one  morning.  "  'Pears  to  me 
you've  eat  all  the  toffee  that's  likely  to  agree  with  you 
real  good.  That  pan  was  full  yesterday,  and  now 
look  at  it!  I  can't  make  it  every  day,  you  know. 

303 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


You  ask  the  girls  to  make  you  up  a  pan  of  molasses 
at  home,  if  you  have  to  have  any  more!" 

Aristides  Chanter  did  feel  that  he  needed  special 
sustenance  in  the  way  of  sweets.  He  knew,  in  his  six- 
teen-year-old heart,  that  no  one  loved  Kitty  as  he  did ; 
and  now  that  Bobby  was  engaged  to  Melissa — well, 
Rod  was  only  two  years  older;  he  didn't  see  but  he 
had  full  as  good  a  right — and  anyhow,  Rod  was  at 
college,  and  if  this  fellow  was  coming,  Kitty's  friends 
ought  to  be  on  the  lookout  for  him;  he  might  be  an 
impostor,  like  the  Ducal  Decoy  in  that  bloodhound 
yarn.  Anyhow,  it  was  awful  poky  hanging  about  the 
station,  waiting  for  every  train.  Pa  wouldn't  let  a 
fellow  smoke,  and  a  fellow  must  do  something. r 

There  was  one  person  who  haunted  the  station  even 
more  persistently  than  Aristides ;  this  was  Wilson  Wi- 
bird.  Wilson  had  become  a  rather  deplorable  figure 
in  these  days.  He  had  resented  bitterly  Kitty's  treat- 
ment of  him  on  the  occasion  described  in  a  previous 
chapter;  he  had  also  been  badly  frightened.  Mr.  Jor- 
dano  might  be  a  thought  fantastic  in  certain  aspects, 
but  he  was  not  a  man  to  be  trifled  with;  the  stern 
admonition  with  which  he  had  dismissed  Wilson  that 
day  still  rang  in  the  ears  of  the  rejected  lover. 

"Keep  out  of  that  lady's  way-tay-tay,  or  it  will  be 
the  worse  for  you-too-too!" 

Wilson  cowered  under  "Italio's"  fiery  glance,  and 
slunk  away,  muttering  curses  that  he  dared  not  breathe 
aloud. 

Uncle  Marshall  had  been  equally  severe,  on  hearing 
from  his  friend  of  the  occurrence.  He  told  his  nephew 

304 


The  Duke  of  Lee 


plainly  that  if  ever  he  heard  of  his  pestering  Kitty 
Ross  again  he  would  not  only  discharge  him  on  the 
spot,  but  would  flounce  (trounce)  him  till  he 
couldn't  tell  whether  he  was  a  bluenette  or  a  blondin. 

Nor  were  these  threats  the  only  ones  that  rankled 
in  Wilson's  mind.  Bobby  Chanter,  now  one  of  the 
family,  disapproved  entirely  of  his  manners  and  cus- 
toms in  the  bosom  of  that  family,  especially  of  his 
bearing  toward  his  sister.  Kind  soul  that  Bobby  was, 
he  would  not  make  trouble  for  poor  Mrs.  Wibird:  he 
knew  what  mothers  were;  his  blue  eyes  softened  at 
the  thought.  He  merely  intimated  to  Wilson  "on  the 
quiet"  that  from  now  on  he,  Wilson,  would  be  civil 
and  pleasant-spoken  to  Melissa,  and  would  bring  in 
coal  and  kindling  wood  for  his  mother,  or  he,  Bobby, 
would  know  the  reason  why. 

Smarting  tinder  these  manifold  injuries,  Wilson 
sought  consolation  where — alas!  he  was  in  the  habit 
of  seeking  it;  but  the  cupboard  bottle  held  no  ex- 
hilaration for  him  nowadays.  He  grew  more  and 
more  sullen,  more  and  more  morose,  brooding  over 
his  wrongs.  With  limpet  tenacity — I  beg  his  par- 
don! with  Iron  Will — he  still  clung  to  the  idea  of 
marriage  with  Kitty,  of  the  mastership  of  Ross 
House;  but  now  he  conjured  up  lurid  pictures  of  the 
methods  by  which  the  conquest  was  to  be  obtained. 
His  path  might  lie  through  Blood! 

"I  would  wade  through  seas  of  it  to  conquer  you, 
proud  woman!"  he  hissed  through  his  teeth,  scowling 
desperately  at  the  mirror.  He  thought  he  looked 
rather  like  Lucifer.  He  saw  his  uncle  and  that  "das- 

305 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


tard  scribbler,"  as  he  mentally  termed  Mr.  Jordano, 
lying  with  faces  turned  to  the  sky,  a  ghastly  wound 
in  their  temples,  from  which  the  life  blood  welled.  As 
for  Billy — Wilson  ground  his  teeth.  Billy  had  "held 
him  up"  only  that  morning:  held  him  by  the  collar 
with  one  hand  and  searched  him  with  the  other,  con- 
fiscating the  pocket-lurking  bottle,  and  dismissing 
him  with  a  friendly  kick  and  "Better  look  out!  better 
give  up!  goin'  to  the  dogs,  and  no  decent  pup  would 
look  at  you!" 

The  news  of  the  expected  advent  of  the  "Duke," 
coming  like  a  thunderclap,  caused  Wilson's  cup  of  bit- 
terness to  overflow.  On  hearing  it  (Lissy  came  in 
full  of  the  tidings.  Wasn't  it  wonderful?  Kitty  de- 
served everything,  of  course,  though  Lissy  understood 
the  Aristocracy  was  commonly  small  and  plain-look- 
ing. She  didn't  believe  he  would  wear  a  coronet  out- 
side his  hat,  like  they  said ;  the  idea!),  Wilson  retired  to 
his  room  and  locked  the  door.  He  would  have  double- 
locked  it,  as  they  did  in  stories,  but  did  not  know  how. 

This  was  the  end !  he  intimated  to  the  mirror.  To 
live  defeated,  disgraced,  robbed  of  his  rights,  or  to 
pass  in  blood  and  flame,  perchance  not  alone!  He 
summoned  up  the  scene.  The  train  dashing  into  the 
station  (Wilson  leaned  to  the  theory  of  arrival  by 
train),  the  proud  scion  of  an  effete  aristocracy  alight- 
ing to  find  John  Tucker  perched  on  top  of  a  "Tally 
Ho"  with  six  spanking  thoroughbreds  tossing  their 
heads  and  champing  the  bit.  A  fair,  false  face  looks 
out  of  the  coach  window;  a  white,  traitress  hand 
waves.  At  that  instant  a  slender  Form  springs  for- 

306 


The  Duke  of  Lee 

ward  with  gesture  of  command.  "Stay !  one  word — 
the  last!  Katrine,  farewell!  I  go,  but  not  alone!" 

Two  shots  ring  out.  A  shriek,  a  puff  of  smoke: 
two  forms  lie  side  by  side,  on  the  platform,  and  an 
agonizing  woman  flings  herself  on  the  bleeding  breast 
of  the  last  Wilson  Wimberley  Wibird — too  late! 

It  sounds  ludicrous:  it  was  tragic.  Weak  minds 
can  be  desperate  as  well  as  strong  ones,  and  poor  Wil- 
son, between  drink  and  diseased  vanity,  was  very  near 
the  edge  of  mania.  So  he  hung  about  the  station  at 
every  train  hour;  haggard,  sodden,  miserable;  and 
really,  the  wonder  is  that  no  tragedy  came  of  it.  One 
might  so  easily  have  come,  had  it  not  been  for  that 
blessed  rain. 

The  farmers  had  been  sa-ying  for  a  month  that  what 
we  wanted  now  was  a  nice  warm  rain.  We  got  it,  at 
the  end  of  this  week.  It  rained,  and  rained,  and 
rained ;  one  day,  two  days,  three  days.  Not  in  show- 
ers or  spurts,  but  in  a  steady,  even  downpour,  with- 
out haste  and  without  rest.  For  the  first  day,  Cyrus 
held  out  bravely,  tied  up  its  roses  and  sped  on  its 
errands  in  waterproof  and  umbrella,  hung  about  the 
station  in  mackintosh  and  rubber  boots.  The  second 
day,  the  elders  stayed  indoors,  looking  anxiously  out 
of  window,  listening  eagerly  for  sound  of  hoofs  or 
wheels;  only  young  Cyrus  patrolled  the  Street,  and 
hung  about  the  station.  By  evening  of  the  third  day, 
pretty  much  everybody  had  abandoned  the  Quest  of 
the  Duke,  collective  Cyrus  expressing  the  opinion  that 
no  duke  that  ever  was  hatched  was  worth  spoiling  all 
your  clothes  and  getting  pneumonia  for.  It  was  on  the 

307 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


evening  of  this  third  day  that  John  Tucker  gave  up 
and  took  to  his  bed,  his  rheumatism  taking  an  inflam- 
matory turn.  Kitty,  alarmed  at  his  condition,  sent 
Amos  Barrell  off  to  Tinkham  for  Dr.  Pettijohn,  with 
rash  orders  not  to  come  back  without  him.  Amos 
found  the  doctor  out  of  town,  not  to  return  till  nine 
o'clock;  obeyed  orders,  bestowed  Dan  in  the  livery- 
stable,  and  went  to  the  "Movies."  Briefly,  when  the 
8 130  train  was  due,  it  was  Kitty  and  Pilot  who  met  it. 

Number  47  was  an  express  train,  the  pride  of  the 
Road ;  it  was  making  its  usual  speed,  and  confidently 
expected  to  arrive  "on  the  dot"  at  Cyrus  and  every 
other  station  on  the  line;  nevertheless,  to  one  passen- 
ger on  board,  Number  47  seemed  the  very  limit  of 
slowness.  The  tall  broad-shouldered  young  man  who 
sat  in  the  furthest  seat  forward,  elbows  on  knees,  chin 
in  hands,  was  deep  in  thought  through  most  of  the 
journey,  but  as  eight  o'clock  drew  near  he  waxed  im- 
patient. Call  this  an  express  train?  If  he  ever  let  an 
accommodation — or  a  freight  for  that  matter — crawl 
at  this  rate  over  any  road  he  had  anything  to  do  with 
— good-night!  Stopping  at  every  back  yard!  to  pick 
up  the  milk  cans,  he  supposed!  He  fumed,  looked  at 
his  watch  (front  and  back:  the  latter  seemed  to  in- 
terest him  most,  though  the  bright  face  that  smiled 
at  him  from  a  kodak  print  had  little  to  say  about  time) , 
then  plunged  in  thought  again.  Did  she  look  like 
that  now?  he  wondered.  Had  she  changed  much  in 
these  three  years?  Three  years!  it  was  a  breath — it 
was  an  eternity ! 

308 


The  Duke  of  Lee 


"My  soul!  What  if  she — what  if  somebody 
else " 

He  sprang  up  as  if  something  had  stung  him ;  recol- 
lected himself,  with  a  startled  glance  around  him ;  met 
the  interested  gaze  of  a  Vassar  freshman  across  the 
aisle;  sat  down  and  with  a  shrug  of  his  broad 
shoulders  settled  into  his  reverie  again.  Nonsense! 
that  kind  of  girl — there  was  only  one  of  the  kind — 
wouldn't  forget  in  three  years,  nor  in  thirteen.  That 
last  look  she  gave  him,  standing  at  the  gate — he 
paused,  letting  the  thought  of  it  curl  warm  about  his 
heart,  sent  the  blood  pulsing  up  into  his  ears.  Beau- 
tiful ears,  the  Vassar  freshman  thought;  they  were 
all  she  could  see  now  over  his  coat  collar,  except  the 
thick  crop  of  hay-colored  hair.  Kitty  used  to  say 
that  when  the  Cyrus  hay-crop  failed  they  could  fall 
back  on  Tom's  hair,  and  then  she  would  quote  with 
her  own  delicious  twinkle,  "Good  hay,  sweet  hay,  hath 
no  fellow!" 

If  she  had  changed,  Tom  told  himself  severely,  it 
could  only  be  for  the  better.  She  was  a  woman  now, 
his  little  girl :  his  little  dancing  gentlewoman  of  high 
quality.  He  hummed  a  tune  between  his  teeth ;  whis- 
tled it;  hummed  it  again.  A  quaint  tune,  with  no 
special  beginning  or  ending.  A  gentleman  in  the  seat 
behind  him  became  restive,  shot  irritated  glances  in 
his  direction ;  was  on  the  point  of  remonstrating  when 
the  tune  ceased.  The  young  man,  glancing  up,  had 
caught  a  glimpse  of  himself  in  a  wall  mirror.  Talk 
about  change!  what  would  Kitty  say  to  him? 

He  stared  straight  into  the  wide-apart  gray-blue 
309 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


eyes  with  their  thick  short  lashes  like  a  black  fringe; 
noted  the  three  deep  lines  ruled  straight  across  the 
broac!  f ^"ehead ;  scrutinized  the  curious  scar  on  the  left 
cheek.  "Well,  you  are  a  show!"  muttered  Tom. 

Of  course  he  couldn't  help  the  scar;  well,  he 
couldn't  help  any  of  it,  for  that  matter;  but  she  might 
like  to  know  about  the  scar.  They  almost  got  him  that 
time !  It  was  rum,  that  particular  tribe  taking  a  round 
piece  out  of  an  enemy's  cheek  and  stringing  'em  on  a 
necklace  to  hang  round  the  joss's  neck.  Gee!  that  was 
a  close  shave!  His  eyes  narrowed,  seeing  strange 
things  through  their  thick  lashes.  A  camp  in  a  moun- 
tain pass,  snowbound;  food  gone,  water  low.  Lower- 
ing faces  of  yellow  men,  huddled  round  a  fire,  casting 
evil  looks  at  the  two,  the  white  man  and  his  faithful 
"boy,"  guarding  the  water  skin.  Then  the  rush,  five 
against  two;  the  daggers  gleaming,  the  wild  cries,  the 
shots — how  the  echoes  went  battering  back  and  forth 
between  the  rock  walls !  then  the  shriek,  the  fall — Tom 
shut  his  eyes,  and  drew  a  quick  breath.  He  was  a 
kindly  man.  It  was  an  ugly  sight,  that  figure  pitching 
headlong  over  the  edge,  its  yellow  robes  fluttering 
back  like  the  wings  of  some  great  swooping  bird — 
bah! 

"I  had  to  kill  him !"  said  Tom.  "He  almost  got  me, 
and  anyway  we  couldn't  have  managed  but  four.  All 
the  same,"  he  added,  his  eyes  still  on  the  bronzed  face 
in  the  glass,  "it  is  not  precisely  a  ducal  countenance 
that  will  greet  you,  Kitty  my  dear.  Will  you  mind 
very  much?  You  shall  have  the  silks  and  satins  all 
right,  little  girl. 

310 


The  Duke  of  Lee 

"'And  the  shall  have  silks  and  satins  for  to  wear, 
And  a  coach  and  six  for  to  take  the  air.' 

(I  wonder  what  I  shall  find  at  the  station:  Flanagan, 
I  suppose,  with  the  'speed  hoss.'  I'll  walk,  if  it  holds 
up  a  bit.) 

"  'And  she  shall  drive  in  St.  James's  Square, 
And  no  lady  in  the  city  shall  with  her  compare — ' " 

"Oxcusc  me,  sair!" 

Tom  started,  and  turned  in  his  seat,  to  behold  a 
bearded  and  spectacled  person  of  studious  appearance, 
quivering  with  some  strong  emotion. 

"I  beg  pardon?" 

The  gentleman's  aspect  relaxed  slightly:  Tom's 
speaking  roice  was  of  delightful  quality,  cordial  and 
musical. 

"Oxcuse  me,  sair!"  the  bearded  one  repeated.  "I 
am  a  musician!" 

Tom  bowed  slightly.  "Awfully  jolly,  I'm  sure!" 
he  murmured.  "Must  be  an  interesting  profession." 

"Zat  air  zat  you  sing,"  the  gentleman  continued,  "it 
is  nossing:  but  nossing  at  all!  it  is  no  composeetion ! 
(a  m'agace  les  nerfs,  jusqu'  a  la  frenesie " 

"Mille  pardons,  Monsieur!" 

Tom  spoke  excellent  French.  He  was  extremely 
sorry  to  have  offended  a  musical  ear ;  he  was  humming 
unconsciously.  He  explained  that  the  air  was  an  an- 
cient one :  an  old  English  folk-song  and  dance. 

"Ah!"  the  clouded  brow  cleared  instantly.  English! 
that  explained  itself.  A  great  nation,  but  unmusical. 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


Still,  the  song  of  the  people,  that  revealed  the  heart; 
he  in  return  asked  a  thousand  pardons.  Let  Monsieur, 
he  begged,  continue  to  carol  the  artless  chant  of  our 
Saxon  neighbor  highly  respected.  He  begged,  he  in- 
sisted. Come,  then!  Let  us  hear  the  little  air!  it 
might — who  knew? — be  arranged 

"Tinkham !"  shouted  the  brakeman. 

The  musician  rose  precipitately.  His  station!  he 
was  desolated  to  conclude  an  acquaintance  so  aus- 
piciously begun.  He  gave  piano  lessons  in  Tinkham! 
His  card :  M.  Anatole  Beaulieu.  Peutetre 

"Au  plaisir,  Monsieur!" 

Tom  sat  down  laughing.  "Five  minutes  more,  and 
we  should  have  been  swearing  eternal  friendship  and 
singing  the  'Marseillaise.'  Nice  little  fellow !  give  me 
the  Caucasian  every  time !  Only  ten  minutes  now !  I 
wonder  if  she'll  like " 

Mr.  Lee  cast  a  surreptitious  glance  around  him. 
There  were  very  few  people  in  the  car  now,  and  no- 
body was  paying  any  attention  to  him.  (The  Vassar 
freshman  had  got  out,  with  a  backward  glance.)  He 
furtively  drew  from  an  inside  pocket  a  small  case,  and 
inspected  its  contents.  It  certainly  was  a  good  stone : 
vieille  roche,  the  Peking  jeweler  assured  him,  and  he 
believed  it.  The  setting  was  good,  too;  he  thought 
she  would  like  the  setting.  Of  course  nothing  was 
good  enough  for  Kitty,  but 

"Ticket,  please !" 

Tom  started,  and  looked  up  to  meet  the  keen,  quiz- 
zical gaze  of  a  pair  of  extremely  intelligent  brown 
eyes. 

312 


The  Duke  of  Lee 


"Some  ring!"  said  the  conductor.  "Likely  to  give 
satisfaction,  I  should  judge.  Coming  events  cast 
their  shadows  before,  what?  Getting  out  at  Cyrus, 
ain't  you?" 

Blushing  absurdly  for  such  a  big  brown  creature, 
Tom  handed  over  his  ticket  and  pocketed  the  ring. 

"I  dare  say  you  know  how  it  is  yourself!"  he  said 
with  a  half-laugh. 

"Bet  your  life!  married  mine  last  fall.  Wish  you — 
suffering  Moses!  if  this  isn't  Tom  Lee,  you  may  toast 
and  butter  me  and  I  won't  say  one  word.  Well,  well, 
well!  you  are  a  stranger!  'Member  Bunty  Jackson 
over  to  Tupham  ?  That's  me !" 

Amid  mutual  greetings,  friendly  reminiscences, 
laughter  and  chaff,  the  train  drew  into  Cyrus  station, 
and  Tom  was  bundled  off,  rather  bewildered,  with 
"Good  luck,  Tommy!  see  that  you  get  her,  and  when 
you've  got  her " 

Exit  train:  manet  Thomas  Lee,  portmanteau  in 
hand,  looking  about  him  through  a  curtain  of  rain. 

It  was  raining  harder  than  it  had  all  day;  the  rain 
came  sluicing  down  in  torrents ;  it  flowed  like  a  stream 
along  the  gleaming  platform :  it  poured  off  the  sou'- 
wester of  the  oil-skin  clad  figure  standing  with  one 
hand  on  the  neck  of  a  mighty  good  horse,  Tom  ob- 
served. No  Flanagan  there !  Flanagan  must  be  dead. 
"Cab  ?"  he  asked.  The  boy — looked  like  a  boy :  might 
be  anything,  muffled  like  that:  Flanagan's  son,  per- 
haps?— for  all  reply  opened  the  door  of  the  carryall. 
Tom  was  about  to  step  in,  when  a  man,  appearing  sud- 

313 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


denly  from  nowhere,  jostled  rudely  against  him,  and 
tried  to  thrust  past  him  into  the  carriage. 

"Here!"  said  Tom  Lee.  "Get  out,  will  you? 
Where  were  you  brought  up?" 

He  had  a  glimpse  of  a  white,  furious  face,  that  was 
somehow  familiar;  of  eyes  glaring  at  him  in  what 
looked  like  insane  rage :  what  had  he  run  into  ?  Next 
moment  his  nostrils  dilated ;  he  sniffed,  inhaling  a 
pungent  odor.  Whiskey!  That  explained  all. 

"Poor  devil  thinks  he's  struck  the  patrol  wagon!" 
he  laughed.  "Nothing  like  water  to  sober  up  on!" 
He  put  out  his  foot  in  a  certain  way  he  had  learned 
in  Japan;  the  intruder  staggered  and  fell  with  a  loud 
splash  into  the  rain  pool  that  had  formed  beside  the 
platform. 

"Drive  on!"  said  Tom  Lee.  "He's  all  right!  Dr. 
Ross's,  please!" 

It  was  a  silent  drive.  Tom,  full  of  his  own 
thoughts,  did  not  care  to  talk  to  Flanagan's  boy  or 
any  other  boy;  his  thoughts  flew  ahead  on  bright 
wings.  Yet  still  his  eyes  took  note  through  the  dusk 
of  rain  of  familiar  objects.  The  full  moon  was  be- 
hind the  clouds,  and  mid-June  evenings  are  never  very 
dark.  Here  was  the  Street,  empty  and  silent:  who 
was  night-watchman  now,  he  wondered?  What 
pranks  he  and  Bobby  Chanter  used  to  play  on  big  Andy 
Doolan !  Bobby  was  a  good  sort.  Tom  hoped  he  was 
here  stilL  Ah!  was  that  Cheeseman's?  "Just  wait, 
Uncle  Ivory!  I'll  be  down  to-morrow,  sure  pop! 
What  price  molasses  peppermints?" 

Up  the  hill  now ;  ah !  there  was  the  Common !  Tom's 


The  Duke  of  Lee 

heart  was  beating  fast.  Those  lights,  straight  across, 
were  hers.  Ah!  here  was  his  own  house,  dark  and 
shuttered.  Poor  mother!  dearest  mother!  she  would 
be  glad  he  was  coming  home,  even  if  she  was  not  here 
to  welcome  him.  She  loved  Kitty  like  her  own  daugh- 
ter. She  knew  the  hope  of  his  heart ;  it  was  her  own, 
too,  she  told  him  so  the  night  before  she  went  away. 
The  sweet  Lady  would  be  pleased,  too:  the  lovely 
dark-lily  lady,  his  second  mother.  Everybody  would 
be  pleased,  he  thought;  if  only  Kitty  herself  could  put 
up  with  a  brown,  wrinkled,  carved-up  anatomy  like 
himself.  "Kitty!  Kitty,  do  you  hear?  I  am  com- 
ing!" 

The  carriage  stopped.  The  silent  figure  on  the  front 
seat  swung  lightly  to  the  ground :  the  door  was  opened. 
A  trembling  voice  spoke. 

"Will  your  Grace  step  out,  or  shall  I  bring  a  foot- 
stool? Tom!  Tom!  don't!  not  in  the  street,  my  dear! 
my  dear!" 


W 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

HASTE   TO   THE   WEDDING ! 

ELL!  that  is  really  all.  Tom  had  come 
home:  those  four  little  words  hold  the  rest 
of  Kitty  Ross's  story. 

"The  Duke  of  Lee 
Would  married  be 
To  a  gentlewoman  of  high  quality." 


And 


"How  happy  would  that  gentlewoman  be 
To  be  blessed  with  the  Duke's  good  company !" 

But — the  refrain  begins  with  "Marry!"  Will  you 
hear  about  the  wedding  ?  I  came  on  for  it,  of  course : 
I  would  have  come  ten  times  as  far.  Of  course,  too, 
if  Tom  had  had  his  way,  the  way  of  his  first  masculine 
dash  for  possession,  he  and  Kitty  would  have  been 
married  the  morning  after  his  arrival,  with  Sarepta 
for  sole  witness;  but  Kitty  was  firm.  It  would  never 
do :  Cyrus's  feelings  would  be  hurt. 

"You  don't  know,  darling,  how  perfectly  angelic 
everybody  has  been  to  me,  from  the  very  moment  I 
arrived.  Why,  Tom, — don't,  dear!  how  can  I  talk 
when  you — why,  all  these  angel  people  wanted  me  to 

316 


Haste  to  the  Wedding! 


come  and  live  with  them !"  Kitty  very  large-eyed  with 
affectionate  gratitude. 

Tom  opined  it  was  like  their  impudence!  and 
promptly  repeated  a  manoeuvre  considered  by  him 
highly  original,  which  resulted  in  the  total  eclipse  of 
Kitty,  all  except  the  top  of  her  little  fair  head.  They 
were  sitting  on  the  old  leather  sofa  in  the  sitting- 
room.  It  was  a  short  sofa,  and  Kitty  now  decreed 
that  Tom  was  to  sit  at  the  further  end,  and  stay  there, 
unless  he  would  behave  and  listen  to  her.  He  couldn't 
hear  unless  he  held  her  hand — both  hands?  What 
nonsense!  Well,  then 

"You  see,  dear!  Cyrus  is  the  blessedest  place  in 
the  world,  and  the  only  place  to  live  in;  but  there 
aren't  many — many  occasions,  you  see,  Tom.  Now  a 
wedding  is  an  occasion !  Aunt  Johanna's  was  delight- 
ful, but  it  had  to  be  very  small,  because  the  Judge — I 
mean  Uncle  Edward — can't  abide  occasions." 

"No  more  can  I,"  said  Tom. 

"You'll  have  to  abide  them,  sir!  what  are  you  a 
duke  for,  I  should  like  to  know?  For  me?  That  is 
no  answer.  Well — so — when  I  saw  how  disappointed 
they  were — the  Twinnies,  and  dear  Miss  Caddies,  and 
the  Chanter  girls,  and — oh,  everybody  except  just  the 
few  people  who  had  to  be  asked — I  said  then  that  if 
ever  I  shoidd  be  married — though  I  never  expected  to 
be  then — I  would  have  a  Real  Wedding,  and  ask 

Everybody!     Oh,  Tommy!  you  know  I  heard " 

Here  followed  an  account  of  Tom's  reported  marriage 
to  the  cattle  king's  widow,  marble  palace  and  all.  Tom 
shouted  with  laughter. 

317 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


"Good  old  Mother  Harris!  Sixty  years  old,  and 
weighs  two  hundred  pounds;  that  is  rich!  She's  mar- 
ried a  Leigh  all  right :  Tim,  her  head  stockman.  She's 
a  good  friend  of  mine,  though,  Kitty.  Darling — 
Well,  I  have  to  have  just  one,  after  being  married  to 
Aunt  Harris.  Go  on,  you  little  precious,  pre- 
cious  " 

"That's  all!"  said  Kitty,  demurely.  "I  want  to 
have  a  Real  Wedding,  and  to  ask  Everybody :  Savory 
Bite  and  all,  Tommy !" 

So  she  had,  and  so  she  did.  Some  of  the  neighbors 
thought  they  would  wait  for  the  return  of  Judge  and 
Mrs.  Peters  in  September:  but  these  did  not  know 
Tom  Lee.  Tom  sent  a  cable  the  morning  after  his 
arrival.  "Marry  Kitty.  When?  Lee."  The  answer 
flashed  back:  "To-morrow.  Joy.  Peters."  So  that 
was  all  right. 

It  was  the  Reallest  Wedding  that  ever  was.  The 
day  was  made  on  purpose,  of  diamond  and  sapphire 
and  much  fine  gold  of  June  sunshine.  The  church — I 
beg  its  pardon!  the  meeting-house;  the  beloved  white 
box  with  its  beautiful  spire,  its  square  pews,  its  tower- 
ing pulpit,  its  everything  that  a  meeting-house  should 
have — was  trimmed  with  masses  of  white  lilac  and 
spiraea,  till,  as  the  Centinel  said  next  day,  it  was  a 
Palace  of  Purity  and  a  Temple  of  Troth.  Madam 
Flynt  gave  the  bride  away ;  the  dear  bride,  more  lovely 
in  her  simple  white  gown  than  words  can  say.  The 
bridegroom  looked  like  Cortez  the  Conqueror,  Miss 
Croly  said:  "So  majestic,  yet  so  affable,  my  love!" 
There  were  six  bridesmaids  in  pink  muslin;  I  myself, 

318 


Haste  to  the  Wedding! 


the  three  Chanters,  Lissy  Wibird,  who  was  to  be  mar- 
ried next  month,  and — I  wonder  if  anybody  in  the 
world  except  Kitty  Ross  would  have  asked  Cissy 
Sharpe  to  stand  up  with  her !  We  all  protested,  I  am 
rather  ashamed  to  remember ;  but  Kitty  said  Cissy  was 
a  schoolmate  just  as  much  as  the  rest  of  us,  and  it 
would  be  unkind  to  leave  her  out;  and  I  am  bound  to 
say  it  was  the  making  over  of  Cissy,  who  really  was 
pathetic  in  her  adoration  of  Kitty  ever  after. 

Mr.  Jordano  was  head  usher,  cloak  and  all,  very 
superb;  the  others  were  Mr.  Mallow  and  Billy  and 
the  three  Chanters.  I  don't  know  which  was  prouder, 
the  eldest  usher,  or  the  youngest.  Each  thought  it 
preposterous  for  the  other  to  figure  in  "such  a  capari- 
son," as  Mr.  Mallow  put  it,  but  that  did  not  matter. 
Sixty  and  sixteen,  Kitty  loved  them  both :  loved  every- 
body, and  Tom  loved  them  because  she  did.  They 
even  had  qualms  of  conscience  about  Wilson  Wibird : 
but  Wilson  had  left  town  shortly  before. 

Miss  Croly  played  the  wedding  march,  shedding  so 
many  happy  tears  that  the  notes  were  not  all  exactly 
right,  but  nobody  minded ;  the  choir  sang,  "The  Voice 
That  Breathed"  :  Mr.  Chanter  kissed  the  bride ;  it  was 
over,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thomas  Lee  came  down  the 
aisle,  smiling  greetings  on  either  hand.  Then  who 
so  glorious  as  John  Tucker,  sitting  on  the  box  of  the 
barouche  (the  only  one  in  Cyrus!)  holding  the  reins 
over  Dan  and  Pilot,  who  wondered  why  they  were 
harnessed  together,  but  comported  themselves  with 
perfect  dignity  ?  White  cockade  in  his  hat,  white  bow 
on  his  whip,  white  rosettes  on  the  horses'  ears,  brand 

319 


'A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


new  white  reins — who  so  glorious  as  John  Tucker? 
Rheumatism?  He  never  heard  of  such  a  thing! 

"Don't  sit  too  straight,  John!"  said  Tom.  "You 
might  strain  your  back !" 

Roars  of  laughter  from  John  Tucker  at  this  subtle 
jest.  So,  through  the  Street  (in  case  anybody  had  not 
been  able  to  get  to  the  church;  but  apparently  every- 
body had!)  up  the  hill,  round  the  Common  in  state,  to 
the  door  of  Ross  House. 

And  the  door  was  opened  by  Sarepta,  the  faithful 
retainer,  in  her  best  dress,  with  tears  in  her  faithful 
eyes?  Nothing  of  the  sort!  If  any  one  thought 
Sarepta  could  bother  with  doors  to-day — no,  Jenny 
couldn't  either!  Jenny  could  set  the  door  open  and 
then  set  down  and  beat  them  eggs.  If  folks  didn't 
know  enough  to  come  in,  they  could  stay  out.  The 
idea! 

So  the  door  stood  wide  open,  as  indeed  was  its 
summer  habit,  and  in  came  the  happy  pair,  and  after 
them  trooped  Cyrus,  which  had  walked  across  the 
Common  while  they  were  driving  round  through  the 
Street.  All  Cyrus!  except  dear  Miss  Anne  Peace,  who 
had  whipped  up  the  back  stairs  so  as  to  be  ready  to 
"help  off"  in  the  ladies'  dressing-room.  Why,  would 
any  one  have  believed  it?  Savory  Bite  came!  Tom 
had  called  on  him,  it  afterward  transpired,  and  told 
him  that  if  he  didn't  come,  he  would  find  his  kitchen 
painted  green  some  fine  morning.  So  here  he  was,  to 
the  amazement  of  all,  in  decent  black,  cracking  his 
finger-joints,  sidling  off  if  any  one  spoke  to  him,  but 
evidently  enjoying  himself  in  his  way.  He  spent  much 

320 


Haste  to  the  Wedding! 


of  the  time  in  the  upper  room  where  the  presents  were 
displayed:  the  most  delightful  presents  that  any  one 
ever  had,  Kitty  thought.  Madam  Flynt's  emeralds 
were  perhaps  the  most  valuable,  from  a  pecuniary 
point  of  view  (if  one  excepted  the  jewels  that  Tom 
had  been  producing  at  intervals  ever  since  his  return) 
but  just  as  precious  in  Kitty's  eyes  was  the  Lowestoft 
tea-set,  hitherto  the  pride  of  "Miss  Bygoods'  "  china 
cupboard;  the  pink  lustre  jug  over  which  the  Misses 
Caddie  shed  tears  at  parting  (yet  which  they  gave  so 
gladly!)  the  unparalleled  collection  of  "wipers,"  roller- 
towels,  and  dusters,  all  hemmed  by  Mr.  Mallow's  own 
hands  and  tied  up  in  dozens  with  pink  ribbons:  the 
centrepiece  which  Mr.  Josiah  Jebus  regarded  as  the 
"shay-dove"  of  his  professional  life. 

"But  meanwhile  in  the  kitchen 

Great  deeds  of  arms  were  wrought; 
There  S'repta  the  Dictator, 

And  there  Cheesemanius  fought!" 

as  Tom  said.  Uncle  Ivory  Cheeseman  had  asked  the 
privilege  of  frosting  the  cakes ;  asked  it  of  Sarepta  as 
one  potentate  of  another,  conferring  and  asking  honor. 
Sarepta,  who  had  hitherto  refused  all  offers  of  assist- 
ance save  from  Sarah  and  Abby  Ann,  accepted  this: 
royalty  received  royalty;  Uncle  Ivory  ranged  through 
the  kitchen  like  the  Frost  King  in  person.  Accord- 
ing to  Sarepta,  he  frosted  everything  he  could  lay 
hands  on. 

"My  land !"  she  said.     "I  had  to  ketch  him  by  the 
321 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


coat-tails  to  stop  him  from  frosting  the  boned  turkey ! 
why,  the  man  was  fairly  loony!" 

Mr.  Cheeseman  was  not  so  "loony"  but  that  he 
could  appreciate  the  triumphs  of  a  fellow-artist.  I 
fancy  he  did  not  really  mean  to  frost  the  boned  turkey : 
he  certainly  hung  over  it  in  fervent  admiration,  pro- 
nouncing it  a  work  of  art,  sir!  When  it  came  to  the 
cafe  mousse,  words  failed  him.  He  cast  several 
thoughtful  glances  at  Sarepta  and  finally  asked  in  a 
casual  way  if  she  had  ever  thought  of  changing  her 
state. 

"No,  I  ain't!"  said  Sarepta. 

After  another  glance,  he  didn't  know  but  she  was 
wise,  and  expected  a  single  life  was  more  handy  like 
when  one  was  used  to  it. 

Well !  the  Olympian  Banquet — I  should  say  the  wed- 
ding breakfast — was  served,  and  was  enjoyed  as  I 
cannot  think  any  banquet  ever  was  before.  Mr.  Mal- 
low and  Mr.  Jordano  made  speeches,  each  in  his  own 
vein.  The  former  said  well !  well !  well !  how  about  it  ? 
He  expected  if  Kitty  and  Tom  con  jingled  as  well  as 
what  we  and  this  dandy  spread  did,  there  wouldn't  any 
divorcee  lawyer  make  his  fortune  out  of  them,  what 
say?  He,  Mr.  Mallow,  wasn't  no  hand  at  speechifyin', 
we  all  knew  that,  but  he  wished  'em  joy — here  the 
good  man's  voice  quavered  a  little — and  he  looked  to 
Mr.  Jordano  to  speak  up  for  him  and  the  rest  of  us. 

Mr.  Jordano  rose  with  dignity,  his  cloak  thrown 
back  over  one  shoulder  in  his  best  style.  (Yes,  it  was 
funny  to  wear  it  at  table,  but  he  wanted  to  so  dread- 

322 


-then  the  Duke  of  Lee  took  his  bride  away. 


Haste  to  the  Wedding! 


fully,  I  had  not  the  heart  to  say  "No!"  when  he  con- 
sulted me!) 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen-ten-ten !"  He  swept  a  splen- 
did circular  bow.  "On  this  auspicious  occasion,  when 
the  ashes — I  would  say  the  spirits  of  our  fathers  look 
down  from  the  azure  empyrean  to  hallow  this  union; 
when  I  gaze  upon  the  countenances  of  the  bride  in  her 
radiant  youth-tooth-tooth,  and  of  the  groom  in  the — 
a — stalwart  pride  of  his  manhood;  when  I  see  highly 
esteemed  neighbors — I  will  venture  to  say  friends — 
("Hear!  Hear!"  and  applause)  gathered  in  festal 
garb-barb-barb  about  a  banquet  so,  so — sumptuoso,  if 
I  may  use  the  language  of  sunny  Italy,  as  to  impart  a 
truly  Olympian  flavor  to  the  occasion;  I  cannot  but 
feel,  in  the  words  of  the  poet,  the  heart  in  my  dumb 
breast  flutter  and  sing-ting-ting.  No  poet,  but  a  hum- 
ble worshiper  at  the  shrine  of  the  Muses,  I  have  ven- 
tured to — a — shall  I  say  crystallize  these  flutterings — 
into "  Mr.  Jordano  produced  a  paper  from  be- 
neath his  cloak — "into  the  following  brief  roundelay." 
And  clearing  his  throat  nervously,  the  paper  trembling 
in  his  fingers,  the  dear  gentleman  read  as  follows : 

"A  simple  scribe,  I  yet  imbibe 

Of  Helicon  a  draught, 
And  pray  that  doom  o'er  bride  and  groom 

The  airs  of  Eden  waft ! 
Ay!  may  they  capture  of  wedded  rapture 

A  homogeneous  whole, 
Good  angels  shedding  upon  their  wedding 
The  blessings  of  the  soul !" 

323 


A  Daughter  of  Jehu 


This  effusion  was  received  with  wild  applause,  and 
Mr.  Jordano  sat  down  very  happy.  Tom,  his  eyes 
dancing,  replied  briefly,  making  us  all  laugh.  Then 
Kitty  spoke  a  few  tremulous  words  that  made  us  all 
cry,  herself  included.  Then  she  floated  up  the  stairs, 
a  white  cloud  (throwing  back  her  bouquet,  which  dear 
Miss  Croly  caught!)  and  floated  down  a  gray  one, 
touched  with  morning  rose;  and  then — then  the  Duke 
of  Lee  took  his  bride  away,  while  we  all  waved  our 
handkerchiefs  and  cried  and  laughed  and  showered 
blessings  after  them.  And  by  and  by  he  brought  her 
back  to  live  in  blessed  Cyrus,  which  really  is  the  only 
place  to  live  in,  "and  no  lady  in  the  City  could  with  her 
compare !" 


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"Marry  oo,  diddy  glu, 

Diddy  glu,  glu,  glu : 
Diddy  oo,  oo,  oo, 

Diddy  goo,  goo,  goo ! 
Marry  oo,  diddy  goo, 

Diddy  goo,  goo,  goo! 
Marry  oo,  diddy  goo,  diddy  goo!" 


THE  END 


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